


Hope for Now

by AngularNotions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunger Games crossover, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash, character death not major
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngularNotions/pseuds/AngularNotions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural/Hunger Games crossover, though no characters used from The Hunger Games, just the theme.</p><p>Castiel is given a choice, either obey or fight for his life. <br/>He chooses the option that he hopes will give him a new life and Dean.</p><p>This is a WIP, so bear with me please!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I'm thinking I'm going to rewrite this sucker, for reasons. The story is going to generally stay the same, but I have some whole scale changes I need to make, so don't be surprised if chapters disappear and reappear and some of it might be done right on AO3, so please bear with me! And I will finish it! It will not remain a WIP I promise!

This was it. The moment Dean was dreading. He was horrified to his very core that he had not been able to stop it from happening and had never felt so helpless in his life. The three of them sat on the old worn couch in the living room of the old house staring unblinkingly at the screen in front of them. He was still at war in his own mind as to whether or not he wanted to watch this. He had watched people he loved die so many times before, but it never got easier.

The commentators were cheerily droning on as they showed each former angel individually entering the glass tube that would take them up to the arena. Most entered it stoically, and stood tall and straight and proud, sure in their certain victory, at least dignified enough not to piss themselves on camera. Two were dragged screaming into it by guards. One only sat on the bottom rocking slowly and weeping, a slight prayer on her lips.

When they reached Castiel, he stood quiet outside of his for a moment, considering it, his shoulders hanging despondently. Finally he stepped onto the platform slowly. Dean could hear the commentators still talking, their excitement level had gone up with the appearance of Cas. He was the wild card in this event, the fallen angel who had lived with humans so long that he wanted to stay human. The angel that loved humans.

Cas turned and faced the camera, his face dead and void of emotion, clearly he was accepting his fate and Dean felt a stab in his gut. The last thing he wanted was Cas giving up so early on, but he had to believe that it was partly for the cameras, he knew Cas, and he was not a quitter.

He remained stoic until the glass door came down, trapping him in the small tube. At that moment the panic broke out in his eyes and his hands came up and pawed at the glass slightly, like a dog attempting to break free. Dean felt the first tear slide down his cheek at the fear on Cas’s face, his heart was breaking, but now he couldn’t look away, this could be the last time he ever saw Cas alive, he had to watch.

Then they were rising, Cas was disappearing into the tube on his way up, palms still pressed to the glass. Dean didn’t look away as he spoke, couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Meg, tell me. What happens first?”

He’d been avoiding asking her specifics, hadn’t really asked Cas much because he knew he couldn’t control himself if he knew. It was a disservice to Cas in so many ways, this selfish need to stay in the dark, because now it was too late to help him with anything that he might encounter but they all knew there was no way of knowing exactly what Cas was facing anyway, so no way to truly prepare him.

He could feel Meg looking at him, clearly debating on how much she should tell him.

“Come on Meg, you’ve watched these fucking things, tell me.”

She sighed softly.

“Fine, Dean, but don’t shoot the messenger alright. Basically they all start in a circle on their platforms. They have to wait until the bell sounds before they can move, so it’s 60 seconds of sizing up the competition and the cornucopia.”

“Cornucopia? What the hell is that and why can’t they move?”

“Shut up a second and I’ll tell you. They can’t move because if they set foot off the platform before the bell the landmines will blow them to smithereens. And that is not pretty when that happens, trust me.”

Dean shuddered, but felt confident that Cas was smart enough to restrain himself and avoid that problem.

“The cornucopia is just that, it’s at the head of their circle and is filled with supplies like food, water and most importantly, weapons of all shapes and sizes.”

She paused, looking at Dean again.

“I know Cas knows this already, but the cornucopia is usually a bloodbath, a good many of them will be lost in the first 20 minutes in this spot, it’s important that Cas doesn’t stick around to try to get anything, he just has to get his ass into hiding as fast as he can.”

Dean shuddered again, he wasn’t as confident that Cas wouldn’t try for weapons and based on the size difference between him and some of the others, he wouldn’t stand a chance against them even if he did get his hands on something. Dean silently cursed again that they didn’t have enough time to properly train Cas how to fight before the bastards took him. He had known Cas all these years and had all that time to train him, but had relied on the Angel’s grace as being the only thing Cas would ever need to protect himself. How wrong he was in that assumption.

The arena finally came in to view on the screen and they all went silent as they studied it. It was a forest of some kind, tall, thick trees surrounded them in all directions, though there were sparkling hints of a water source to Cas’s right.

The Cornucopia rose like a steel demon straight in front of him, though a good jogging distance away. Bags and supplies were scattered all around it, getting denser the closer to the mouth you got.

Dean watched Cas as he looked around, taking in the trees, spotting the water source and finally when his eyes settled on the supplies. He could almost see his mind working as he judged the distance and eyeballed his opponents.

“Don’t do it Cas, you just fucking run.” Dean knew he couldn’t hear him, but Cas looked at the camera suddenly then, just as though he had heard him. Cas was getting more screen time than the others, as his popularity made him a focal point.

Suddenly a mechanical voice broadcast into the arena started the final ten second countdown. Cas turned abruptly towards the Cornucopia again, his mind clearly working fast. In the final seconds he looked one more time at those he would be fighting against and it seemed he had made a decision.

“Three… Two… One” The bell was finally ringing, clear and ominous and Cas was already moving so fast even Dean was surprised at his swiftness. Cas had clearly judged his distance disadvantage as he was the farthest from the mouth full of supplies and he jutted just to the left of the mouth, heading for the supplies dotted on the ground. Dean didn’t have the time to watch what the others were doing, his eyes remained glued to Cas’s back as the camera followed him at first. When the angle turned to focus on a battle over a knife to the right of Cas, all three of them cursed at the TV, the first sound Sam had made since they had sat down. The screen quickly split into multiple views and Cas was in the bottom right hand corner. He was still running towards the supplies and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. He was getting too close to the others who were already armed, he was running straight into danger. He could see a bag of some kind on the ground that Cas seemed to be aiming for, he reached it just as another fighter did, tackling Cas to the ground for it. This particular man was younger than Cas, early twenties and easily twice his size, clearly he had won the vessel lottery. They rolled on the ground a few times, bag between them and when they landed Cas was on his back, the other man straddling his hips, a smirk on his lips. He raised his arm, knife in hand and Dean felt weak. A split second later the man was flopped on Cas, dead weight, an arrow sticking out of his back between his shoulder blades. Cas’s face was barely visible from under his shoulder and he seemed entirely shocked with this shift in events, but regained himself quickly, squirming his way out from under the heavier man and quickly grabbing the bag before turning and running headlong into the trees.

“Run, Cas, run, Cas, run, Cas…” Meg was quietly repeating this mantra now, leaning forward on the couch.

Cas saw the knife before they did and used the bag to catch it before it pierced his shoulder, and all three of them gasped. Cas didn’t even break stride, just kept running, fast and straight with determination.

As he finally broke the tree line and headed towards the only safety there was, Dean finally started breathing a bit again. None of the others seemed to be pursuing him, they were either dead on the grass, still fighting or heading other directions.

They all watched as Cas kept on running, his breathing getting louder and more ragged but he kept on going until he was a good mile into the trees. He started to slow and then stumbled a bit before collapsing on his knees, gasping for air. The commentators went back to discussing the action in the clearing, any immediate danger around Cas was now gone and Dean was glad. Though Cas was still on screen in a small corner, he was getting a break from his notoriety.

After panting on the ground for a few minutes he finally seemed to regain his breath enough to sit up and then stand, walking slowly to stretch his screaming muscles, he started moving forward again, going further from the centre and his enemies.


	2. Confession

_Two Weeks Earlier_

“Just admit it Sam, he’s becoming a good hunter, and he saved your ass back there, so I think you owe him a little gratitude!”

Sam glared at Dean under his brow. Cas has been hunting with them for about two months now and he was improving, though it was a slow process. Cas had a penchant for shooting first (or in his case, smiting first) and asking questions later, something that Sam found problematic most of the time. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t want the monsters or demons dead, he just felt that they might want to glean a little information from them first, seeing as Kevin was still in the wind and the tablet was in pieces.

Laughing at Sam’s expression, Dean turns to Cas to see how the angel is reacting and stops. The angel is sitting dead still, his face blank again. This had been happening with increasing frequency ever since Cas had got out of purgatory and Dean couldn’t figure out why. It was like the angel was elsewhere but still in the room. He’d asked Cas about it a few times but he always claimed that nothing was happening, and on one occasion that he didn’t remember. It was hinky, Dean knew that for sure, but he couldn’t figure out what it was that was happening.

“Cas? Hey man, you in there?”

Snapping his fingers an inch from the angel’s nose didn’t have any effect. The blue eyes just continued to stare forward, unblinking and blank.

“Why does he keep doing this Dean? Do you think he’s visiting heaven?”

“Dunno Sam, he said he wasn’t ever going to go back there so I don’t think so, but it’s weird alright.” Then Dean starts to laugh slightly, “maybe he’s powering up?”

A sharp intact of breath catches their attention and Cas looks up at them, confusion on his face before realization sets in.

“You ok there dude? You kinda blanked out on us again.”

The angel rises suddenly, brushing non-existent dust off the front of his coat.

“Fine, are we ready to go?”

Dean comes up short. Every other time Cas had done this weird blanking out thing he had argued with him that nothing had happened, that he hadn’t even left, like he didn’t remember what was going on. This time, he wasn’t denying it. He knew something now.

“Cas, what is going on?”

His face is blank and his eyes calm but guarded as he fixes them on Dean’s face.

“Nothing Dean, let’s get moving, there is work to do.”

With that he turns and leaves the motel room, heading straight for the back seat of the Impala, Sam guarding the front passenger door with his body in case the angel had any ideas on his seat again.

Dean knew it would rile Sam up, letting Cas ride in the front seat after they picked him up from the Retirement Home, but he didn’t think his brother would still be guarding his seat like an idiot.

Laughing at Sam openly, Dean slides the motel room door closed and struts over to the drivers door, knowing that his seat will always be safe, neither one of his passengers would be stupid enough to try to take it.

 

 

_“Castiel, we have discussed this, you are not to try to enter heaven. You are only permitted to speak with me.”_

_The brunette glares at him behind her desk, clearly she hadn’t figured on him trying to be sneaky, he was supposed to be repentant after all, and he was, but he also wasn’t willing to just lie down and do as he was told either._

_“Why won’t you let me in? We both know God is no longer here, watching over heaven, I need to see it, how I’ve left it.”_

_“For what purpose Castiel? It won’t soothe your guilt, this is what we have decided for you. At this time, you will only speak with me, report to me on your efforts with the Winchester boys, that is all.”_

_“Until when? And who is we? Who else is deciding this? Raphael is dead, so is Gabriel, and Michael is in the cage with Lucifer, who is the leader now? How did they become leader, I fought for free will!”_

_“Free will is a fallacy Castiel, you know that, just do as you are told and things will get better for you, and you will only deal with me,” she fixes her gaze on him and softens her tone slightly, “just do as you are told, it will be easier on you.”_

_“What if I say no? What if I don’t want to do as I’m told, what if I choose free will, choose to stay on earth with Sam and Dean and never return to heaven?”_

_“You know that is not an option Castiel, not unless…”_

_She stops, her hands fidget on the desk, Castiel can clearly tell she is receiving information, or possibly orders, from whoever the higher up was._

_“Not unless what, what are my options?”_

_Naomi looks down at her hands, whatever she’s been told, she’s not happy about it._

_“Castiel, because you are unwilling to just work with us, you have two choices, the first is to follow our plan, do as you are told, report to me and work with the Winchesters in the meantime, until you are needed here.”_

_“I refuse that choice.”_

_“You haven’t heard the other option yet.”_

_“If the other option is a way for me to create my own path, then I know I’ll choose it.”_

_Naomi stares at him meaningfully, almost sadly, and a shiver of fear settles in his core, the other choice isn’t good._

_“The other option will give you free will, if you win. But you have to win to get what you want.”_

_“Win? Win what?”_

_Then it hits him, a hammer against his head in realization._

_“The games.” He states clearly, “I have to win the games.”_

_Castiel knew of the games, had watched them many times and had always secretly found them to be barbaric. Fallen angels, or those who had forsaken God or their leaders were sent to fight amongst each other until only one came out alive at the end. They are stripped of their power, made human and sent into an arena to fight to the death. The angel that wins is lauded for their bravery in succeeding and given the choice of what their path would be, staying an angel and rejoining the fold, which as far as he knew was always what the winner chose, or becoming human, the more controversial option for sure._

_If he won, Castiel knew the choice he would make, he would become human, stay with Dean and hunt, he couldn’t see any other path for himself now. But he had to win, and that was far more difficult than it sounded._

_“Do I have time to consider my options?”_

_Naomi gaped at him for a moment, clearly she had figured that he would immediately choose to obey versus the games, but she sighed after a moment, her body remaining tense._

_“Yes, I suppose. This means I won’t be erasing your memory of this meeting this time though.”  
“That’s fine, how long do I have?”_

_“A week. You have a week to make a choice.”_

_Her eyes were pleading with him to make the right choice, to choose option number one, which would ensure survival._

_Cas knew already he’d pick number two._

They sat in a diner in West Virginia, Dean and Sam were arguing over who would do what task the next day. Sam was growing tired of always doing the researching end of things, Dean was pulling big brother rank and telling him to just do what he says.

Castiel sits watching them quietly, thinking over his conversation with Naomi and what this choice meant in terms of his future.

Sitting there, with Sam and Dean, he knew he wanted choice number two for the endgame, to become human, but if he went that direction, he would face one hell of a task getting there. He was already mulling over whether or not he should tell Dean what was going on. For the two days since they had left that motel, Dean had been peppering him with questions, somehow the man could always tell when something was troubling Cas, but he wasn’t sure if he should burden Dean with the decision he was facing. In fact, he wasn’t sure what Dean would decide himself, given the same options. Dean was a fighter, he wanted free will, had changed history fighting for it, so Cas was reasonably sure that Dean would choose option two. At the same time, Dean didn’t know what the games were like, didn’t know how brutal they could be.

Cas was aware that if he went with option two, he would probably need Dean’s help in learning how to fight properly, if he stood any sort of chance at winning, which meant that he would have to explain the situation to Dean.

He only had five days left to make his decision, and he didn’t know when the games started after that point, he could be taken away immediately without any opportunity to train with Dean. This realization hit him hard, he needed to start right away; he was wasting time hiding it from them.

Dean was in the middle of teasing Sam about eating another salad when he spoke up.

“I need your help.”

They both stopped and started at him, brows quizzical.

“Say what?” Was Dean’s reply, Sam was more diplomatic. “Sure, Cas, what is it?”

He didn’t know where to begin, but dove in anyway.

“Those times, I seem to disappear, I’m being called away by an angel named Naomi.”

“Cas, why didn’t you just tell me this before?”

“Dean, please, let me continue. I didn’t tell you because they were wiping my memory of the meetings previously, they didn’t want me to tell you. But I was to keep meeting with Naomi when she called, reporting to her about our goings on down on earth, the progress we were making,” Dean opened his mouth to speak and Cas stops him, holding his hand up, he knows what Dean is going to ask. “I don’t know why they want to know Dean, I suspect I’ve asked but I haven’t got an answer.”

Dean’s face shows his annoyance, he hates it when angels meddle with things, had fought Cas on it for a long time.

“Two days ago, Naomi called me up as usual, after I had tried again to get into heaven to see what was going on, they have been preventing me from entering, saying that I must obey their rules now, do as I’m told and I will learn more as time passes.”

“I would have told them to shove that up their asses, can’t you just get past them?”

“I tried Dean, that’s why I ended up there two days ago, and as it happens, I did sort of tell them to stick it, which is why I’m now faced with choosing one of two options.”

“What are the options Cas?” Sam asks softly, always perceptive, he could tell something was wrong.

Castiel looks down at his hands, taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“Option number one is to do as they say, report to them, have them erase my memory of the meetings each time probably, and hope that eventually I’ll be let back into heaven.”

“Ok, well that option sucks, what’s the other one?” Dean asks.

“I have to participate in the Hunger Games. If I win, I choose my destiny, if I lose, well, that’s it.”

“What do you mean that’s it? What are the Hunger Games? Some kind of pie eating contest?” Dean asks with a chuckle, Sam throws him a look that stops his laughing.

Cas glances at him quickly before speaking again, this was harder than he thought it would be.

“The Hunger Games are an annual event. Fallen angels or those who have disobeyed or foresaken their leaders are put into an arena, stripped of their grace and have to fight to the death until only one is left standing.”

Both of them stare at him with their mouths open for a few minutes.

Dean speaks up first.

“Wha… What do you mean to the death? How do you fight without your grace?”

“We are in our vessels Dean, it’s sort of a sick joke in a way, we fight as humans would, with human weapons. The arena is usually just some spot on earth they pick and create a barrier around that those who are fighting cannot escape. It’s rigged to be a spectacle, sort of like that television program you showed me, where the people all live together on an island and vote each other off, though much more bloody.”

“Wait, hold up, are you saying this is like some sick reality show? Who’s watching?”

“The angels, mostly, those on earth usually view it through some sort of setting, most recently they have been using human technology and viewing it on a television but with their own form of connection. This technology actually has allowed demons to begin viewing it as well, somehow they tapped into the feed and as you can imagine, it’s highly anticipated by them.”

“Cas,” Sam begins softly, his eyes earnest, “what choice are you leaning towards, cuz I’m getting the vibe that you have already decided to fight in these games.”

“Is it not the better option Sam? If I win, I choose my destiny.”

“But if you lose Cas, you die!”

“This option gives me free will, I thought you believed in that Sam, both of you.”

“I do Cas, but not if you are putting yourself in that kind of danger, tell him Dean, he can’t go into those games!”

Dean was quiet for a few minutes, staring at the table, his face unreadable. Both of them watched him, awaiting his opinion on the matter. He glanced at Sam first, clearly he disagreed with his brother.

“Cas, you’re right, I do believe in free will, what can we do to make sure you win those games?”

“Dean!”

“Sam, no, he’s right, he can’t just give in and do what they say, we both know that that kind of crap never works out well, these games, it’s the way to go.”

He turned to Cas then, waiting for an answer to his previous question.

“I need you to teach me how to fight, use weapons, more than just a gun, because honestly, I don’t know what options for weapons I’ll receive, the arena is kept secret and so is what is inside of it.”

“Ok, well, we can do that right Sam?” The younger Winchester still looked upset at the choice being made, but nodded.

“You need to tell us as much as you can about what you might expect.”

“Cas, have you watched the games before?” Sam asks suddenly.

Feeling ashamed of his answer he only nods, eyes fixed on the Formica table-top.

“Cas, it’s ok, that’s good, it will help us prepare you better, tell us everything ok.”

Dean seemed so sure now, his tone was clear and it was evident that he was confident in Castiel’s sure victory, but his eyes gave away his fear for his friend.


	3. Deadline

They make their way back to the motel in silence, all of them mulling over what they needed to do in the coming days.

Dean spoke the moment the door closed.

“Cas, how much time do we have?”

“I… I’m not sure, I have to give my answer as to my choice in five days, and I don’t know how soon the games will begin after that.”

“FIVE DAYS!?!” Dean yelled, dropping his coat on the floor. “Shit, Cas, why the hell didn’t you say something sooner, five days is not long enough!”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to burden you with this.” He stood sheepishly beside the bed, his brow furrowed in sadness and guilt.

“Dean, calm down, just because he gives his answer in five days, does not mean that the games start in five days ok, it could be a while after that, right Cas?”

“I’m not sure Sam, I wish I knew.”  
“But, there is the possibility, right?”

“Yes, I suppose so, I would hope they would give me some time, the others who I will be fighting will be given time, it’s only fair.”

Dean simmered down a little at this, though he clearly wasn’t happy that Cas’s opponents were being given preparation time as well, despite knowing that Cas was right, it was only fair.

“Ok, let’s make a game plan here, first, give us an idea of what we are looking at here. Then, we need to get down to business training you, we’ll start with knives, because if you can’t have a gun, a knife is your next best bet.”

Both Sam and Cas nodded in unison, it was the most logical way to go about this.

So Sam and Dean sat, perched on the edges of their respective beds, while Cas sat in one of the chairs at the table and started talking. He told them about the arena’s he had seen, he hadn’t watched every set of games that had taken place in the 100 years that they had been fought, but he had seen enough to know how they worked pretty well.

“The Arena is not randomly chosen, it has it’s own difficulties that the opponents will have to overcome. One year, it was in the middle of the Sahara Desert, there was no water source, a good many of the fighters died from thirst before they managed to kill each other. Another year, it was Antarctica, and as you can imagine, many died from the cold. The fighters are given items they will need to survive within the chosen climate, but the bare minimum, good shoes, coats and pants. Items they will need to survive such as basic necessities are provided in a manner that they must be fought over, or if the person is resourceful, found on their own. I have never seen guns used in the arena, I suspect that’s because they are less personal in their method of death, and don’t require much skill, but Dean is right, knives are a common element, they are always there, as are bows and arrows, axes, other blunt instruments, and on at least one occasion, poison.”

Dean nodded slowly.

“Ok, so the aim is hand to hand combat essentially, I’m assuming because that is more thrilling for the audience to watch.” The disgust was not hidden in his voice as he spit the words out.

“Yes, you are correct, what started out as a means of punishing those who disobeyed has become an annual blood sport and the more action there is on screen, the greater the size of the audience. It has started taking on forms of gambling on earth, as angels bet on certain fighters to win. Someone decided at one point to add the element of sponsors in about ten years ago, probably to curb some of the gambling. But, if a particular angel wants to assist one of the fighters in the arena, with food or medicine, they have to contact one of the game makers to make their bid. If the bid is high enough, it’s usually accepted.”

“Wait, how the hell is that fair?”

“It’s not, it’s not supposed to be, the idea was for it to allow outsiders to help those who were in need, to allow them to fight longer, have a better chance, but sadly, it’s become more of a reward system, often the fighter with the most notoriety or kills on their hands gets the benefit of the gifts.”

“This thing is messed up.”

“Yes, Sam, it is, and I know that God does not approve, though why He hasn’t stopped it, I am unclear.”

“Who did come up with this?”

“I’m not sure, there are rumours of it being Raphael, but I have never found evidence to corroborate that.”

Dean sighs loudly, dropping his chin down to his chest for a moment before clapping his hands together and standing up.

“Ok, well, now we have an idea of your choice of weapons, let’s get started. We will definitely do knife training, but I also think you need to learn the bow and arrows, it’s more skill than brawn and like a gun, allows you some distance from your opponent.”

“One moment Dean, first I need to tell you both, I don’t want to kill anyone, that isn’t who I am, please know that. I am not making this choice because I choose violence.”

Dean’s face softens and he comes forward to crouch in front of the angel, a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas, we know ok? I never once thought that you were doing this for the fun of it, and if there was any way I could take your place, do this for you, save you from having to do this, I would. But something tells me, you can’t run from this, you can’t run from having to make that choice, so we need to face it, and Sam and I, we are going to help you, ok?”

Cas nods quickly, throwing Dean a small but tight smile.

Sam lifts the bag of weapons onto the bed and unzips it.

“Which do you want to start with first?”

 

 

The next five days were spent in intense training, sometimes through the night, each Winchester taking a few hours here and there to sleep, while the other kept working with Cas. Dean was the most determined and spent the most time with him, perfecting each maneuver, teaching him how to throw the perfect punch, the right spots to aim for with his fists, feet and the weapons. Dean was almost manic by the end of the week, he still wasn’t convinced that Cas would have more time than their allotted five days before he met with Naomi again and the fear that he wouldn’t teach him enough in time was clear on his face on the fifth day.

There was so much Cas wanted to talk to Dean about before he went into that arena, so much they needed to work out. They had spent so much time in purgatory, their closeness had doubled and Cas knew what he felt for the other man went way beyond friendship. Spending his life with Dean, as a human was why he was even doing this insanity in the first place, it was what he wanted most in the world and he was willing to risk his own life to get it. But he wasn’t sure if it was what Dean wanted, and this fact was troubling him immensely as the deadline wound down.

Sam had gone out to get food while Cas and Dean cleaned up after another bought of training, probably their last Cas figured, since he was starting to agree with Dean that his time was far more limited than Sam wanted to believe.

“Cas?”

Dean spoke so softly that Cas wasn’t sure he had heard him, he looked up to be sure and Dean was staring at him on the other side of the bed, the weapons strewn on the comforter between them.

Tilting his head in question slightly he waited for Dean to say something else.

“What… I mean, you get to choose your own destiny at the end right? When you win…”

“If I win.” Cas cut him off. Dean leveled a stern look at him.

“When you win, because let’s be honest, how many of the other opponents are getting personal training from hunters?”

“I don’t know.” He had a point, Cas thought.

“So anyway, when you win, is your destiny anything you want it to be? Or do you get another choice?”

“I…” Cas began, before turning and moving to sit on the end of the bed, seconds later, Dean joined him there, sitting close enough that Cas could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“I get another choice, but the options are more appealing than the current situation.”

“What are the options?” Dean leaned in slightly, invading Castiel’s personal space far more than he had ever let the angel do to him.

“Either I go back to heaven, regain my position there and live a life of luxury, as a winner, or I can choose to stay on earth, become human and live a normal life.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled in the light as they widened.

“Which do you think you will choose?”

Cas was confused by his reaction, the desperation in his voice as he asked the question, as though he really wanted Cas to pick one option far more than the other. He wondered if maybe Dean did feel strongly about him, strong enough to want him to stay. The thought sent a trickle of nervous energy through him. Dean stared at him wide-eyed, mouth parted slightly, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he waited.

“I, well I would choose to stay human. I don’t want to return to heaven. I know that now. I can’t bear to look at what I’ve done, I thought I could but it’s not something I can do.”

Dean was now attempting to hide his smile and failing more than a little, spurring Cas on.

“I was hoping, that I could stay with you, hunting with Sam, living this life,” Cas said softly, before whispering, “if that’s ok with you.”

The reply he got was strong lips against his own, Dean’s mouth claiming his hungrily and he felt himself start with shock before giving in and kissing back, though with much less experience than Dean. He smelled of whiskey and sweat, but his lips were soft and warm and skilled. Relief settled in Cas’s stomach, he had what he was looking for; recognition of his affection for Dean and his determination to walk out of that arena alive soared. Lifting his hand he cups Dean’s cheek, the stubble tickling his palm and Dean moans softly into his mouth and runs his tongue along Cas’s bottom lip.

Then suddenly the lips and tongue are gone and things are too bright around him, he can tell before even opening his eyes.

When he does open them, he realizes he is no longer with Dean; Naomi has called on him. The pristine white office feels cold after the motel room, the chair hard and uncomfortable after the bed.

Naomi sits behind her desk as usual, leaning forward toward him, no hint of a smile on her face.

“Castiel, good to see you again. Have you made your choice?” Her voice is robotic, void of inflection.

Castiel regards her for a few moments in silence, he can still feel Dean’s lips on his mouth, feel his stubble rubbing against his chin, his hand drops down into his lap. The warmth of that kiss makes him feel brave.

Still holding her gaze, he simply nods.


	4. Realizations

Dean falls off the bed, the body holding him there had disappeared so suddenly he didn’t have time to stop it. Recovering on the floor, silent curses falling from his lips as he rubs a sore elbow, it hits him.

Cas is gone.

The realization of this is a punch in the gut, panic threading it’s way through his nerves. Every other time he had been called by Naomi, he had remained bodily in place, face blank and eyes glassy. But he was gone entirely this time. They were indeed out of time for training and for anything else. He didn’t get the chance to tell him everything he wanted to say, the words remained tucked inside him like a weight he wants to release and can’t.

Hands shaking, he stands up and starts pacing, going over his mental checklist of everything he wanted to teach Cas before the week was up, choosing to focus on the immediate danger instead of the kiss and his feelings for the angel. He had covered most of the basics of hand to hand combat, and best practices when using a knife, but they hadn’t even began to really touch on using a bow and arrow. Neither Dean or Sam were particularly adept at the practice themselves, they had called on a friend who knew how and had talked Cas through it once on the phone, promising to meet up with him next week. But they were out of time.

Baby’s familiar growl outside meant Sam was back. Dean is grateful, because he has no idea what to do next, his heart pounding in his ears he continues stalking the floor.

How would they even know how Cas did in the games? Would he just show up one day, the victor? Or would they just never see him again? Ice slid through his veins as he realized that that was a potential reality, one he should prepare himself for, but how? He loved Cas. Loved him more than he thought possible and tonight, of all nights, they had finally realized the feelings they each had for the other were mutual. And now he was gone, possibly forever and it takes every bit of strength Dean has not to curl up on the bed in the fetal position and cry and give up on the world. It didn’t seem worth carrying on without Cas with him. The angels lips leaving a faint memory on his own. His throat feels like it’s closing.

Lost in his own horror he doesn’t hear Sam knock the first time.

Sam’s foot now hitting the door finally rouses him, and he pulls it open to admit his brother, whose hands are laden with bags of food and a tray of drinks. Sam throws him a quick glare of annoyance before noticing Cas’s missing figure.

“Dean, where’s Cas?” His eyes slide to the bathroom door as he asks, despite knowing that Cas really doesn’t have use for the room unless he is washing his hands.

“He’s gone Sam, they called him, we’re out of time.” Dean struggles to keep his heavy sadness out of his voice and fails, he sounds croaky. Sam has no idea what Dean and Cas’s relationship had become, and more importantly, what it could have been.

Suddenly exhausted, and still having trouble breathing and speaking through his tight throat, Dean drops onto the end of the bed, where Cas had been sitting only a few minutes before and slides his hands up his face and into his hair, letting his chin rest on his chest.

Sam walks to the table slowly, depositing his load before running a hand through his own hair, his wide eyes still going around the room, like he expects that Cas is just hiding behind the TV or something.

“We can’t be out of time, didn’t Cas say the others get training time when they know they are going in? He’ll be back, just wait a few minutes.”  
Sam’s enthusiasm in his belief that the angels would play fair in this case was really grating on Dean. He knew better, the angels had no reason to be nice to Cas, not after everything he had done. Hell, he figured there were quite a few that would love to see him slaughtered in that arena, as a form of justice. Sponsors would not come to assist him, he was on his own in there and Dean knew that better than anyone.

“Sam, face it, they aren’t going to let him come back, he’s gone and the only way we are going to know if he wins is if he comes back to us when the games end, and who knows how long that will take.”  
“Dean…”

“No, Sam, stop, ok, this is it, he’s gone.” Dean didn’t want to believe this, every fibre of his being fought it, and he wanted Sam to keep fighting him on it, keep coming up with reasons why Dean was wrong, but knew he wouldn’t believe them.

“He’s not gone Dean, he will come back, he will win, ok? We trained him, and let’s be honest, the guy was a leader of a garrison himself, he has his own knowledge as well. I would be willing to bet on him winning, so don’t give up on him yet.”

Dean didn’t know whether to punch his brother or hug him at that point. He decided on getting a drink.

“Dean?”

“Hmm.”

“Didn’t Cas say some angels on earth are able to watch the games? I wonder if we could find one who would be willing to let us watch with them?” The glass froze half way to his lips, would he want to watch? Could he watch Cas die? Definitely not.

“Why in hell would they let us do that? They have no allegiance to us.”

“A demon then? Cas said demons sometimes watch too.”

“Same reason as the angels.”

He could tell that Sam wasn’t giving up yet, his face was pinched in that way he does when he’s found a puzzle that he wants to solve and for some reason he finds some comfort it that, for once he was going to let his brother sort it out.

Dean settles on the bed with the whiskey bottle and his glass, the food sits untouched on the table, forgotten as Sam dives into his laptop, looking up God knows what.

Dean forces the whiskey through his tightened throat and tries to breathe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In so many ways, Castiel shouldn’t have been that surprised at how fast things began to move the moment he expressed his wishes.

Naomi’s eyes had widened momentarily, evidently she still thought he might choose option number one, but the shock passed quickly and the next thing he knew, two more angels had entered the room from a door he didn’t even know existed.

Knowing fighting them was futile at this point he stood and waited for instruction. Besides, he needed to stay in top shape if he were to have any chance in the arena, getting beat up by these angels now in the office would seriously hinder that plan. The two men had simply stepped towards him, each placing a hand on his chest and then drew his grace out from within him, leaving him human, fragile and weak.

The feeling was peculiar, like suddenly the room wasn’t as sharp as before, his ears filled with cotton wool and now he could feel things like pain entirely differently. Something he discovered as he banged his ankle on the chair as they pulled him out by his elbows.

They led him down a long hallway that seemed to be lit from all sides, the brightness stung his eyes slightly. Another hidden doorway opened at the end and suddenly they were on earth, standing on a sidewalk outside a non-descript building. A large black car was waiting in front of them, the streetlights reflected off the windshield, making it impossible to see inside. He was loaded into the back, a guard on either side of him and driven a few blocks before they turned into what on the surface appeared to be a parking garage, but went far too deep into the ground to be just that. He lost count at 30 floors below, and he knew he was in the training centre, the area where all the fighters would be held until the games began. He knew from history that all the fighters were brought to the training centre exactly seven days before the games began. He potentially only had one more week to live. This thought stuck in his throat, and he tried to swallow to get rid of it. Dean’s face flashed through his mind and his heart hurt at the sudden memory but he pushed it away. While Dean was the reason he would fight his hardest to live and get out alive, he also knew that he needed to focus on the task at hand and not let anything distract him.

When at last the car stopped, he was unloaded and taken through a large steel door into another bright hallway. He could see a set of double steel doors at the end, an elevator he presumed and they headed towards it quickly.

The ride up was quiet, his two guards stood stoically at his side, dutifully ignoring him while maintaining their grip on his arms.

They got off on the 112th floor and started down the hall. This one resembled a hotel, and not one of the cheap ones that Dean and Sam frequented. The floor was carpeted in a plush, deep red, the colour of blood Cas noted. The walls were a warm butter and richly adorned with columns and hidden lights. He wondered as to the opulence of this hallway, it was short, only one other door in it aside from the elevator.

One of the guards released his arm and opened the door, while the other guard pressed Cas towards it and then through it. It slammed shut behind him immediately and he heard the lock turn.

He appeared to be in an apartment of sorts, it too was opulent with dark mahogany floors and rich, modern furnishings in the living area he now stood in. The kitchen was to his left, and full of gleaming stainless steel appliances and black marble countertops. A steel bowl full of apples was placed in the centre of the glass dining table just beyond the kitchen. The wall directly in front of him was entirely made of glass. He could see the glittering lights of all the buildings beyond and headed towards the windows, trying to figure out where in the world he was. He could see the Empire State Building to the right of the building he now stood in, he was in New York. He knew that the training building was always in a different place each year, and wasn’t always an indicator of where the arena would be, but he couldn’t help but think that there was a signifier here, a reason they were in America. He wondered if it was because of him and his connections here.

To his right stood a large fireplace with a white marble mantle, a big screen TV was mounted to the wall above it and it was already on. Moving towards it he finds the remote on the coffee table and turns the volume up.

Zeke and Matew are on, as they always are during the games. They are the official announcers of the event and their broadcast starts when the fighters have arrived at the training centre.

“This is going to be a fantastic years ladies and gentlemen,” Zeke is saying, “we have an exciting announcement to make, I know you have all been waiting to find out who the final fighter would be, and we can now finally tell you all!” He is almost out of his seat now with excitement and Matew is no better, clappings his hands like a small child in zeal. Dread settles in the pit of Cas’s stomach.

“Our final fighter is…” A drumroll sounds suddenly as Zeke opens his mouth dramatically, keeping the suspense up.

“CASTIEL!” They both shout in unisen.

Suddenly there is a picture of him up on the screen, he’s not sure where it has come from, but it seems recent, definitely post-purgatory.

He knows it now; he’s going to be the big deal this time around. Every year one of the poor bastards who goes into the arena is made into a celebrity and it almost never turns out well for then.

Castiel knows that he is the obvious choice, he’s already famous for all the wrong reasons in heaven and it’s a no-brainer that everyone will already be focused on him as it is. He also knows that he had very little chance at gaining any sponsors as it was, but being the public face of the games this year made his chances disappear entirely, people loved to support the underdogs and he no longer was one, if he ever was.

“We all know Castiel, but here’s what’s really curious about him. You see, we all know the victors choice at the end, right?”

“Yes! Yes, the victor gets to choose between coming back to heaven a winner, or staying human on earth!” Matew pipes in.

“That’s right, my good friend, and we all know that ever since these games began, every victor has chosen to come back to heaven, BUT!” Zeke holds a finger up for emphasis. “Castiel, our good friend, he will choose to stay human.”

Zeke nods at the camera, as though the audience is right in the room with him.

“Mark my words, he will choose to stay on earth and that is what makes him an important challenger to watch this year.”

Castiel sits stunned on the couch. He had figured on his past actions being the focal point in regards to himself, not this. How does Zeke even know what choice he will make? A cold wave of paranoia sweeps over him. He’s not sure if this will help him win sponsors or not now, this is a new thing and he can see why they are fascinated by this, but he still wants to know why they know this about him.

“Now I’m sure you’re all asking yourselves, Zeke, how do you know that?”

He turns his head and throws the camera a knowing look.

“The Winchesters, that’s why. You see, Castiel has spent more time on earth than any of our other competitors this year, working alongside the Winchesters. He has already chosen them.”

“Wow!” Matew breathes beside him, his pinched, pale face and blond hair making him appear doll like.

Castiel can’t help but notice that the announcers are actually being quite kind to him. They aren’t bringing up the fact that he turned his back on his brothers and sisters, or that he played a key role in the massacre of a good many of them. Their focus is purely on his choice and how he is close to the Winchesters. He wonders if this is strategic kindness on their part, attempting to win him back some favour, or if they are just withholding the more despicable bits of information about him and plan on releasing it later.

Either way, he’s had enough of them. Pushing the power button hard with his finger the room goes silent as the TV flickers off.

Standing he heads towards the door to the left of the fireplace and pushes it open. This room is just as large as the living room, with a huge bed raised on a wooden platform in the middle and approximately twenty pillows piled on it, all covered in various brightly coloured silk patterns. The walls along the left are all glass, just like the living room, while the others are a deep, warm green with various natural paintings decorating them. The lighting is dim, only two lamps are in the room, on either side of the bed but he can see light coming from a door at the far side of the room. Curiosity guiding him he pushes that door open and finds a large, bright bathroom, with gleaming white marble countertops, walls and floors. The one large window in the room is positioned so that you can see the cityscape from the bathtub. Now human, Castiel makes use of the facilities before returning to the bedroom to check out the closet. It’s stocked with clothes, most of them similar grey outfits of a plain t-shirt with red bands around the sleeves and loose grey pants. He figures these must be the clothes he will be required to wear to training. He knows he won’t receive the outfit he will wear into the arena until the day he actually goes in, so that he won’t get any clues as to where he’s heading from it.

A noise in the living room catches his attention, and he stops and listens and hears the front door click closed.

On edge, but curious he walks quietly to the bedroom door and comes face to face with a tall blond man with dark eyes and a small patch of hair just under his bottom lip. The man’s mouth quickly quirks into a smile and he holds his hand out.

“Castiel, I’m Chesney, I’m here to help you look your best and get you ready for each days events.” His voice is warm, friendly enough that Cas relaxes a little and takes his hand, nodding.

“I’m sure you’re tired, but I wanted show you your outfit for tomorrow afternoons interviews. Do you have any questions about it?”

“The outfit or the interview?”  
Chesney laughs, his eyes sparkling with humour.

“I only handle your appearance, if you have questions about your interview, I’m sure Garten will be able to answer them tomorrow morning when he visits you for breakfast.”

Castiel knows who Garten is, he’s well known to anyone who has ever watched the games before. As a coach, he is ruthless, and more often than not, he doesn’t really seem to care if the person he’s spent a week working with wins or not. In terms of coaches for the Hunger Games, he’s the worst you can get. Castiel isn’t surprised that’s he stuck with him. In small ways, he keeps getting reminded that he is being punished for his past acts and while this doesn’t bother him too much, the guilt he feels welcomes the punishment, he still worries about his chances in the arena without a proper, caring coach.

“Now, I see you found the closet,” Chesney breezes past him into the bedroom, no concern about invading privacy. It gives Castiel a chance to really take him in. He appears to be no older than Dean, though he dresses as though he is younger, a tight black t-shirt and dark wash jeans that look brand new. His hair is combed back and then slicked in place with some sort of gel, making it shine in the lights.

“I’m sure you’ve surmised these clothes are for training,” his hands sweep past the line of grey shirts and pants.

“But this here,” he pulls a dark grey pair of pants and a white button down shirt out of the closet, “is for your interview tomorrow. I want you to look approachable, put together, but still like someone you could be friends with.”

Castiel feels confusion trickle through him.

“What kind of strategy is that?”

Chesney looks at him with kindness in his eyes.

“One that will hopefully win you some favour and get you some sponsors.”

He knows it’s Chesney’s job to help him win the games, as it works well in the angel’s favour if his challenger does well, gaining him popularity and prestige as being part of the victor’s team, but Castiel still feels warmed by his kindness, probably because he wasn’t expecting it and doesn’t feel he deserves it.

Hanging the clothes back into the closet, Chesney closes the doors with a flourish.

“Now, get some rest, I will be here tomorrow morning after breakfast to help you get ready.”

He breezes back past Castiel, only pausing for a moment to put a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze and then he’s gone from the apartment and Cas is alone again.

He knows he’s not going to be able to sleep, as memories of Dean swarm into his head the moment he lays down. He relishes in them, allowing himself the indulgence of thinking about him just this once.

Tomorrow he will focus properly.

Tomorrow it all begins.


	5. Friends and Enemies

Dean awakes with a start. He doesn’t remember falling asleep but the empty bottle of whiskey on the bed next to him gives him a clue as to how.

There’s a loud pounding noise and he’s not sure for a few seconds if it’s in his own head or really there. Sam is already up heading to the door by the time he figures out that it’s a real noise.

“What the hell is going on?”

Meg bursts into the room, her usual low drawl gone, replaced by barely hidden fury.

“Meg?” is all Sam manages to squeak out before she launches into her tirade.

“I finally find a way to crawl back out of hell and get on earth and tap into the angel feed to find out what’s going on and I see that Castiel is in the Hunger Games this year! What the hell did you guys do to him?”

Anger simmers in Dean’s gut, or is it jealousy, Dean can’t tell. He knows that somewhere deep in Meg’s evil core she gives a shit about Castiel, and this just proves that, but he can’t help the slight feeling of selfishness he gets anyway, that Cas belongs to him.

“Meg, calm down, we didn’t do anything, he chose to go into them, otherwise they would have just used him again, and made his life miserable.” Sam is unfazed by her outburst.

“Miserable? Miserable is better than dead asshole. Why didn’t you stop him?”

Dean finally finds his voice.

“Because it was his choice Meg, and if we made it for him, we would have been as bad as the angels, and this was the only way he could get what he wanted in the end.” Then more quietly, “so long as he survives the games.”

“Exactly Dean, so long as he survives and after seeing who he’s up against, I’m not betting on him.”

Ice slides through Dean’s veins at that, he’s fully sober now.

“Wait, you’ve seen it? You said you tapped into the feed, you can watch the games?”

Sam is now inches from her face, frantic.

“Yes Sam, I have been watching them for years. So imagine my surprise when his face pops up as one of the poor shmucks going in to get slaughtered.”

“Meg, can you get the feed here? Can we watch it with you.”

She considers them for a moment, clearly she’s still pissed at them. She turns and takes in Dean’s pain-stricken face and softens her stance. She knows that they couldn’t have stopped Castiel.

“I suppose, but not here, you’ll have to come with me.”

“Meg, we trained him as best we could, we had five days and we trained him with weapons and everything we knew.” Dean sounds desperate now. He is back stuck between wanting to watch and not wanting to, his indecision is making his head swim.

Meg nods softly. For once, she seems to believe them.

“We better get going, tomorrow afternoon is the first interviews with the contestants and then training begins and we will be updated all the time on their progress.”

Both Dean and Sam stare at her for a moment, hearing the process sickens them but they get moving soon after, packing and loading the car.

 

* * *

 

Turns out Meg wasn’t that far from them when she had found out the news. This was on purpose, she was keeping an eye on them and waiting to offer her assistance if needed in defeating Crowley, even though it meant she would be thrown back down into hell herself for eternity. This confuses Dean immensely, Meg had always been self-serving and helping them close the doors to hell permanently didn’t seem like a very good thing to do to herself. She refused to elaborate though and the car fell into stony silence.

Dean wanted to ask her so many questions about the process of the games, but he didn’t at the same time, some how not knowing was more comforting than hearing the gory details.

Meg lit the single lamp in the abandoned house when they arrived and went to the TV, lighting a candle on top of it and saying a few words in Enochian before it fired to life and they had a picture.

Two men were on the screen, one had dark hair that was lifted away from his head in a large bouffant sort of style, and dark heavily arched brows and hazel eyes. His face was lined and he appeared to be around Bobby’s age. He was the one doing most of the talking. The other man was blond, his hair formed into two balls on the top of his head that Dean would have laughed at had the situation not been so serious. His face was pale, made more so by some sort of makeup. His eyes were the palest blue Dean had ever seen, almost translucent in colour, giving him a bit of a creepy aura.

“Who are they?”

“That’s Zeke, the main mouthpiece announcer of the games and his co-host is Matew.”

“It’s almost four in the morning,” Sam states, “why are they still on?”

Meg glances at him like he’s an idiot.

“Because they are angels moron, the feed is on 24/7 until after the final interviews with the victor.”

A pang rings in Dean’s stomach at the word victor, would that be Cas this time?

Meg leans forward and turns up the volume slightly, not wanting to draw attention to them being in this house to outsiders, but still wanting to hear what was being said.

“Now we all remember last years games right?” Zeke asks while Matew nods vigorously next to him, the balls jiggling slightly.

“We watched our fearless competitors battle it out on the beaches in the Philippines,” he smiles at this statement, clearly remembering the previous years event fondly, before carrying on.

“Matew, any guesses as to the location of the arena this year?”

“Well,” Matew’s hands flail slightly, “Zeke, it’s so difficult to tell, there are so many choices, but my guess would be that it will be on land this year, since there has been a water theme the last two years in a row, and I also think it might be a colder climate in contrast to last year.”

Zeke purses his lips in thought.

“Yes, yes Matew, good ideas.”

“Meg, can Cas see this feed?”  
Meg turns away from the TV and the debate about the potential arena and considers Sam for a moment.

“I would assume so, every other year the competitors were each kept in their own apartment complete with TV’s. They have no reason to hide it from them, these assholes don’t know anything of any real substance to share, they are just here to hold the interviews and to do play by play through training, the main events and the games.”

“Isn’t the game the main event?” Sam asks.

“Well yes, but the interviews are as well beforehand, and the parade.”

“Parade?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“Yes, they truss all the competitors up in fancy outfits and parade them before a live crowd to show them off, that will be the last night before they go in.”  
Dean breathes loudly through his nose, this was getting worse and he didn’t think that was possible.

“Wait, where the hell do they hold this parade?”

“They find a place, or create one somewhere, usually somewhere desolate and void of life so no human notices, but it has to be on earth, since the competitors are human for the entirety of the event, making them weak and easy to kill.”

Sam nods slowly, taking her information in before turning to Dean.

“I think we should try to get some sleep, nothing is going to happen tonight.”

Dean nods, though he knows that he likely won’t sleep at all, not for the foreseeable future, but he should try.

They move to the dark room opposite where Meg is with the TV. She promises to keep watching and wake them if something important happens.

Sam is out quickly, somehow able to shut his mind off when he needs to. Dean lies awake for hours, and soon finds himself watching the sun come up.

The only thing he can think of at that moment is that he will at least see Cas soon, even if only on TV and that is something. 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel wakes slowly, mind muddy from sleep. He hadn’t expected to be able to doze off but he had at some point, memories of Dean lulling him down. The feeling of waking up is so foreign to him that it takes him a few minutes to adjust, but then nature calls and he is forced to leave the warm bed and face the day.

After showering and getting dressed in one of his grey outfits he heads out to the kitchen to await Garten, but instead finds the man already sitting at his kitchen table, coffee in front of him, his eyes scanning the newspaper in his hands.

At some point near the beginning of the creation of the games, it had been decided that the competitors should each have a coach of some kind to help prepare them, especially after the third annual games when every single one who went into the arena died because of their lack of knowledge at living as a human. The powers-that-be had decided that human coaches was the best method to go with for obvious reasons and had found a variety of different ones over the years, all of which had some sort of penance to pay and willingly agreed to help for a ticket into heaven. It had reached a point where the coaches were now held in extremely high regard and the victor’s coach was always handsomely rewarded for having a winner. Garten was an oddity in the mix. While the man clearly had to have agreed to the arrangement, he made no effort whatsoever to help his charges and instead spent the majority of the games drunk and off philandering.

Castiel isn’t sure if he has noticed him there yet, so quietly clears his throat.

“I know you’re there, get some breakfast and coffee and sit down.”

His instructions clear, Castiel slips to the kitchen and grabs a cup of coffee, spooning in some sugar and cream as he had seen Dean do before and nothing to eat. He isn’t hungry, at least he doesn’t think he is since he isn’t in the least bit attracted to any of the food on the counter.

He joins Garten at the table and waits.

Finally finished reading his paper the older man puts it down and regards Castiel full on. Garten appears older to Cas than he remembers him, lines cross his forehead now and the crows feet at his eyes seem to have grown. His hair is still blond, longish and stringy, coming down to his jawline. His eyes are a dark green and cold, his mouth a straight line. The jacket and shirt he’s wearing appear to be what he also slept in and there is the scent of stale liquor surrounding him.

“You need to eat.” He states gruffly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Who cares? You need to eat, once you’re in the arena, you will never know when your next meal will be, it’s a good idea to pack on some pounds now to give you more fat to burn.”

As he is speaking he pulls a flask from his pocket and adds a large glug of the contents into his coffee.

“Perhaps you should eat as well, I don’t think drinking on an empty stomach is a good idea.”

Castiel does his best to match Garten’s dead pan tone, not willing to get riled up by this man, even if he is his coach because he knows he’s not going to be any help to him, least of all drunk.

Garten glares at him, hair hanging in his eyes.

“I know who you are Castiel, I know what you’ve done, so don’t you dare go all high and mighty on me.”

“I am guilty, of many things, but I don’t see the point in taking your advice since I know that you have no real interest in helping me and are only here because you’ve been told to be.”

Garten cocks his head to the side slightly and the smallest of smirks goes across his lips.

“Interesting.” He says quietly.

“What? What is so interesting?”

His face clears and he shakes his head quickly.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, just know that if I do give you advice, it’s for a reason, and I strongly suggest you take it.”

Castiel considers this for a moment, he was right about eating, that it would be best to gain some fat on his body in order to survive in the arena, so long as one of his competitors didn’t kill him first.

He quietly slips out of his chair and goes back to the kitchen, deciding on a muffin and some fruit. Sitting back down he eats it slowly, enjoying getting to know the pleasure of eating and of food. He notices Garten watching him carefully through this but says nothing.

He waits until he’s finished eating to start talking again.

“Ok, since you seem to want to give advice, what can you tell me that I should do at the interview today?”

“Be likable.”

“That’s it? Just ‘be likeable’?” Castiel quotes with his fingers, he’s still not sure he’s getting the hang of that particular gesture and he doesn’t have Dean there to correct him.

Garten leans towards him and Cas can smell the whiskey on his breath, it smells like Dean’s favourite brand.

“Yes, Castiel, be likable, make them warm up to you, show them that you are not the monster they all believe you to be. And I would strongly advise you to be honest in answering the questions, show that you are repentant, that you are doing this as punishment for your guilt. Don’t ask outright for their forgiveness but show that you are worthy of it. It’s your only chance.”

He’s not entirely sure, but it is starting to seem like Garten is actually interested in helping him. His advice so far has actually been useful, though putting it into practice in front of the audience that afternoon was certainly going to be more difficult but it made sense.

Castiel nods once, acknowledging his advice and Garten leans back, regarding him again with scrutinizing eyes.

“Look, I know I have a history, and you have no reason to trust me, but I will be honest with you, always, there’s no point in beating around the bush. I think you can actually win this thing, you have the ability, but you have to bring the audience on to your side as well, that’s just as important as outliving your opponents in the arena.”

“Why do you think I can win? I’m not exactly a big man, I’m hated by everyone who is both in the arena with me and watching, how do I even have a chance?”

“You’re smart Castiel, smart enough to choose free will over herd mentality. Yeah some of your decisions have backfired rather horrifically, but you still created your own path, something I think you can do in the arena. And as for not being strong enough, it’s not about brawn in there, it’s about wits and you are clever, use that to your advantage.”

Castiel looks down at his hands in his lap, he’s not sure whether he should feel better about this or worse.

“Look Castiel, I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t think you stood a chance either when they told me I was coaching you, I knew I had another loser for sure, but now that I see you, you are way better than I thought you would be. You have the right levels of bravery and common sense in you that will help you go far. Actually you’re completely different than I thought you would be, though we need to work on your personality if we are going to get them to like you.”

Castiel glares at him.

“What does that mean? What’s wrong with my personality?”  
“Well, you’re combative, for one, and secondly, you’re cold, unapproachable and appear to be cunning, not that cunning is a bad thing, you just can’t let people find out about it.”  
“How do I change my personality? This is who I am?”

“Just emulate someone you know who is kind and gentle and above all, show how burdened you are with guilt, give them a reason to feel sorry for you.”

He leans forward again and Cas is hit with the same whiskey breath.

“Look Cas, I don’t have a problem with how you are, in fact, it’ll serve you well to be cold and calculating in the arena, but you need to hide that right now when you want people to get on your side.”  
Castiel winces at his use of the nickname Dean had given him, but his words made some sense, what he was saying, though he wasn’t happy with being labeled calculating, it held negative connotations for him, but he could see how outsiders might see him that way.

“Chesney will be here soon to beautify you for the cameras, I suggest you finish that coffee and get ready for him.”  
It was odd, but now Castiel found himself more frightened by the interviews and public appearances than he did about the games themselves.


	6. Repentence

Chesney arrives a short time later in a flurry of activity. He has brought a team with him and Cas finds himself being guided to a chair and hands descending on him almost immediately, arranging his hair, powdering his face and buffing his nails. The hands then move him to the bedroom where his clothes are laid out on the bed, but when the hands start trying to remove his current attire in order to dress him, he protests. He may be new at this human thing but he does know how to dress himself and would like to maintain some modicum of modesty through this ordeal. Chesney appears confused by his decision but ushers his helpers out before closing the door behind himself, leaving Cas alone finally.

Sitting down on the bed he runs over his conversation with Garten in his head again. He still doesn’t know how he feels about the man and he’s shaky about trusting him just yet. Cas knows that he is in all actuality just waiting for the bomb to drop, for all of these people who are treating him kindly, or attempting to help him, even in a gruff way as in the case of Garten, are suddenly going to just out and say ‘you’re a monster’ to him and their help will all have been a big joke.

He is surrounded by people, strangers though they are, but he’s never felt so alone in his life.

Rising from the bed he quietly changes into the soft wool grey pants and white cotton button down and then surveys himself in the mirror. The clothes are alright, but his hair looks ridiculous, gelled in place with a few curls coming down his forehead. His face is worse, the powder making him look pale and sickly. Taking a deep breath he removes the clothes again and steps into the shower to remove the work they had taken close to an hour perfecting. He feels somewhat guilty because he knows he might be hurting their feelings, but he doesn’t want some made up version of himself on the stage today, he wants to be himself.

Toweling off and redressing he feels better, more himself. A knock on the door signifies that it’s time to go and he steps out slowly, to the gasps of Chesney’s team.

“Castiel! What have you done? We had you perfect!”

“I want to be myself today, only myself, not a made up version.”

Chesney looks furious, his cheeks flushing in colour as he tries to control himself. Garten looks amused, but throws Castiel an approving smile, at least someone agrees with this decision on his part.

“Well, there’s no time to fix it now, at least your outfit looks good.”

Chesney struts over to him and smoothes down the front of Cas’s shirt, picking a few bits of invisible lint off his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, “please don’t take my actions the wrong way, I just need to feel normal today to get through this, I know your intentions are good and you want to help and I am grateful.” He feels as though he should apologize, Chesney was the only person he felt was being genuinely kind to him and he doesn’t want to lose that.

The blond visibly relaxes at this, and nods quietly before squeezing Cas’s shoulder gently again.

“Alright Cas, time to go.” Garten announces, standing and swaying slightly on his feet.

“Please stop calling me that.” Castiel fixes him in his gaze, Garten stares back, some defiance on his face, but also some amusement.  
“Why? What’s the problem?”  
“That nickname is reserved for only certain people to use, and you aren’t one of them.”

Castiel expects him to get angry at this, to show his true feelings for him. Instead Garten simply stares at him for a few moments, mouth slack and then he starts to laugh, doubling over for a few moments and slapping his knee. When he finally recovers he shakes his head congenially at Cas, pushing his hair back from his face.

“I guess I’m not part of the inner circle yet, well, let’s see if I can change that yeah?”

With that he turns and heads towards the front door, knocking on it once to let the guards know they are ready.

Cas is stunned, he wasn’t expecting that reaction at all. As he passes Garten at the door, the older man nods at him, eyes twinkling with residual amusement and pats him on the shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

The competitors are kept apart throughout the initial interviews, though they are able to watch each other on private screens in their own waiting rooms. This is the first time Castiel will have the chance to see who he is up against and to measure his chances.

Since he was the last to arrive at the training centre, he will be last to be interviewed. He has no doubt that this is also a measure of maintaining suspense; his interview is heavily anticipated.

The first onto the stage is a man named James. He is tall and very muscular like Sam but his face is gentle, his mannerisms restrained. He is clearly not happy about being here, though truth be told, Cas presumes very few of them are happy about this. At some point James had gone against his direct orders and was now paying the price, a familiar refrain throughout most of the interviews over the years.

The second is a tiny woman, who appears to be in her late 50’s. Her grey hair and slight frame makes her appear fragile, like a grandmother. At first his heart aches for her, he doesn’t believe she will last very long at all in the arena, but her fierce responses to the tougher questions make him rethink his initial impression of her. She’s smart, savvy and clearly has a strategy already in mind. Her name is Clara, and Cas likes her, despite the fact that he knows she will try to kill him and he will be expected to kill her.

The next ten that follow are the real competitors. The angels that are trained for these games, those that make it their life’s mission to compete in them. The games may only be just over 100 years old, but these angels see them as a challenge and work hard to be in peak form to potentially win. For them it’s all about the victory, the fame that follows and the life of luxury promised them. These are the ones he has to be most worried about. The most frightening of the bunch is a large man named Gregory, whose dark grey eyes are cold and hard and full of determination.

Following them are a series of smaller, younger more frightened competitors, those that will likely die early on and Cas feels the pang of sadness return in his heart. These are innocents, they may have defied orders but many of them did so because the orders were wrong, so they chose free will. Guilt washes over him as they each state this. It was him that made them believe in free will and now look what’s happening to them. He wonders if the wash of blood on his hands will ever end.

Finally, a guard comes and retrieves him, getting him ready to go on stage as soon as the one before him finishes.

He stands and listens from the side of the stage, the young woman being interviewed now is crying and pleading with the audience not to make her go in. Castiel’s throat tightens and his heart feels heavy in his chest. He knows that he needs to focus only on himself, to think only of winning for Dean, but these constant reminders of his guilt make him feel like he is suffocating. Dean always told him that what he did was for the right reasons, but it started off a chain of events that he was ill prepared to deal with and he made so many wrong decisions that he spiraled out of control. But somehow he ended up back on earth, an angel again and he knows someone was responsible for that. Someone gave him another chance, forgave him and allowed him to try to make things right, and he did the best he could, ending up in purgatory for his efforts. And again, someone brought him back, delivered him back to Dean and somehow he has to believe that there is a reason for this. While he may be guilty of putting at least ten other angels in this arena with himself, he is there for a reason as well. This may very well be his last test, to prove that he is worthy of staying alive this time. He silently vows before taking the steps into the spotlight that he will not shed blood in this arena unless he has absolutely no choice. He will not hunt the others, and while he cannot stop them from going after each other, he will not play a role in their deaths. He knows he said as much to Dean and Sam as they were training, but he truly means it now. He will not be a murderer.

 

* * *

 

 

The noise from the crowd as Castiel takes the stage is deafening. Dean had been taking notes on each of the others through the entire thing, trying to figure out who the real threats were versus the ones that Cas wouldn’t have to worry about. He knew that Cas had no intention of killing anyone so it was more a case of knowing who was likely to hunt after him, who he would have to defend himself against. All of this note taking was mostly moot in truth, him analyzing the others did nothing to help Cas and only truly just helped Dean stay at least partially sane. He felt like if he didn’t do something with his hands, he would lose his mind.

His heart drops in his chest when he finally sees Cas, dressed in grey pants and a white button down that is loosely tucked in. He hasn’t shaved, the past twenty-four hours seem to have aged him, though he knows that’s partly because he’s now human as well. Cas’s eyes widen as they take in the crowd, but his face remains cool, expressionless and he shakes Zeke’s hand without smiling.

They sit across from each other, on futuristic white chairs that are shaped somewhat like hollowed out eggs without tops. The back wall behind them is covered entirely in white lights while two spotlights light them up from the front. Cas perches on the edge of the chair, knitting his fingers together between his knees and keeps his eyes downcast, clearly wishing he was anywhere else at that moment.

“Castiel!” Zeke’s voice booms over the slowly dimming noise of the crowd.

“Castiel, it is so good to finally meet you.”

Castiel glances up and nods once, his face still blank.

“So tell me Castiel, are you prepared, ready to get this show on the road?”  
Cas’s eyebrows knit together for a split second in disbelief but he straightens his face quickly.

“Yes, as prepared as I can be I guess, but how does one prepare for something like this?”

The crowd murmurs at his response, Dean can’t tell the overall mood yet.

“This is true, so tell me Castiel, what have you been doing with yourself the last year?”

Castiel now faces him full on, confusion pulling his mouth into an ‘O’.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, we haven’t heard from you in over a year Castiel, and we are dying to know what you have been up to?”  
Dean searches Zeke’s voice for any note of hostility or accusation and it’s clear Cas is doing the same, but there’s nothing there but genuine curiosity and it hits him the same time it hits Cas, they don’t know he was in purgatory.

“I… well, I was in purgatory, with Dean after killing Dick Roman to stop the leviathans.”

There is no note of pride or boasting in Castiel’s words, they are spoken as fact, that destroying the leviathans was just another day in his life and nothing special.

The intake of breath from everyone in the crowd is audible and there are several surprised shouts.

Zeke seems the most surprised, his mouth agape as he stares at Castiel.

“You were in purgatory?”  
“Yes, I was.”

“How did you get out?”  
Castiel looks down at his hands, squeezing his right thumb tightly.

“I don’t know. I helped Dean find the way out because he was human and he wasn’t supposed to be down there, but I stayed behind and I don’t know how I ended up back on earth.”

“And you stopped the leviathans?”  
“Well, I just helped Dean stop their leader.” Cas states softly, modesty intact.

“My goodness Castiel, always a surprise with you. I think we can all take a moment to say thank you to Castiel for helping the hunter Dean Winchester stop the leviathans, a formidable feat as many of us know.”

The audience breaks out in applause at this and Cas sits staring at them bewildered.

Once they have died down again, Zeke turns back to him and pats his arm.

“I have a question for you, that many of us have been puzzling over. If you win the games, will you return to heaven, or stay human? I know it’s a tough question but, I have a feeling you will surprise us once again.”

Dean wrinkles his brow at that. Zeke’s congenial manner with Cas is suspicious to him. He can’t understand why this announcer would appear to be so supportive instead of lascivious. This was the perfect chance to roast the angel, declare all of his wrongdoings and demand he repent for them. Instead he’s thanking Cas for helping stop the leviathans and then changing the subject and asking questions that make it almost seem like Zeke has every belief that Cas is going to win the games.

Cas absently chews on his lip for a moment, the crowd is completely hushed waiting for his reply.

He finally whispers after a long moment, “stay human.”

Another audible intake of breath follows. Zeke nods at him, clearly not surprised.

“Castiel, can you tell us why?”

Cas studies the floor for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“Because I don’t deserve to come back to heaven, I know what I did, the repercussions still are reaching, and I don’t feel as though I am worthy to walk among you again.”

Zeke reaches forward and takes his hand gently, forcing Cas to look him in the eyes. The crowd is murmuring again, but there is a clear mood of forgiveness in the sounds.

“Castiel, we have forgiven you, we know why you did what you did and you tried to stop it, you tried to help and we all know that, right folks?” Zeke turns to the crowd and they all cheer their support. Castiel looks dumbfounded again, he clearly had been expecting ire, aggression, no forgiveness, he even maybe felt he deserved that but that wasn’t happening now.

Zeke pats his hand again and turns back to the camera.

“Well that’s all tonight folks, remember to keep watching as we begin training tomorrow.”

They both stand, shaking hands again, Zeke smiling at Cas supportively and then he leaves the stage and Dean longs to follow him, to keeps his eyes on him to know he’s ok.

“Well that was weird.” Meg states in her usual dead-pan tone.

“Do you think it was disingenuous?” Sam asks her.

“Honestly? No, seems like Cas is pretty popular, perhaps the group of angels that put him in these games are in the minority? Wouldn’t surprise me honestly. Well, the good news is, he has a better chance of getting sponsors now.”

Sam nods beside her in agreement but Dean is less sure. He’s worried that the minority are also the ones who would be sponsors and they certainly are unlikely to help him.

He finally falls asleep a half hour later, dreaming of Cas in those grey pants and white shirt stained with blood as Gregory stands over him brandishing a sword. He wakes up panting and sweating and ends up watching the sun rise again.

 

* * *

 

Garten is waiting for him in the kitchen when he gets back to the apartment. He’s still wearing the same clothes and silently offers Cas a glass of whiskey as he comes in, a big grin on his face.

“Good job mate, you did it, you made them love you, hell, you didn’t even need to appear repentant about the shit you did in heaven, they were already on your side when you mentioned purgatory. Tell me, what was it like down there? In purgatory I mean?”

Cas downs the glass in one gulp, the alcohol a slow burn down his throat into his stomach, the effect almost immediate, making his head swim.

“Like I was one step above hell.”

 Garten laughs again, the alcohol making him sloppy and he sways on his feet as he laughs.

“I’m glad I amuse you so. Can’t say I enjoyed the experience that much, or tonight even.”  
Garten gets controls of himself quickly, refilling Cas’s glass, but his eyebrow remains up in amusement.

“I don’t doubt that it sucked balls man, but look at it this way, the arena can’t possibly be any worse.”

“I had my grace in purgatory, I had a built in weapon and I was fighting monsters.” Cas slams the glass on the counter and the side cracks, allowing some of the amber liquid to start dribbling onto the counter. “In the arena I will be asked to kill innocents, angels that had followed my lead and chose free will and are now being punished for it. Do you honestly think that will not be worse than purgatory?”  
All traces of amusement are now gone from Garten’s face.

“I’m here to tell you right now,” Castiel states, “I will not take a life in that arena, I refuse.”

“Yes, you will, and you won’t even think about it at the time because it will be necessary for your own survival. If you go in there hell bent on not killing anyone you’ll be dead in ten minutes if I don’t kill you before hand for being an idiot. You can’t save them Castiel, they’re already dead, all you can do is fight like hell to survive yourself. Make it all worth it.”

He knows Garten is right, if it comes down to his life or the other fighters, he will defend himself because he promised Dean he would. It doesn’t make it any easier though. The whiskey feels heavy in his stomach and his throat sours with bile.

“Look, Castiel, I don’t care if you don’t want to hunt after the others, you can go in there and find a hiding spot and shove your damn head in the sand if you want, but you know as well I as do that the game makers aren’t going to let you get away with that for long so you have to have a strategy, a plan in place and for you, that plan is to just stay alive, no matter what it takes, do you hear me? I am here to help you, and I mean that, but I gotta know you are going to help yourself.”

He is genuine, Cas knows it, and in some small manner it makes him feel better.

“Also, remember, you didn’t put any of those others in the arena with you, someone else decided that, hell, some of them chose it for themselves, but this, these games, not your fault so let that go off your shoulders or it will be your downfall.”  
Cas doesn’t agree, the young woman who was interviewed before him, her defiance was because of his choice to bring free will, she believed in it because he had told her it was a good thing and so he held the blame for her death before she was even dead. He didn’t voice any of this to Garten, he wanted to keep him on his side and needed to keep this stuff to himself to maintain that.

“I’m going to go, I’ll see you tomorrow for training. But first, a few pointers about that, are you any good at any weapons in particular?”

Cas considers this for a moment, Dean had taught him how to use a knife, so he felt comfortable with that, but his true secret was his ability with a bow and arrow. It was a hobby he had taken up centuries ago, he had taken the time to practice and perfect his ability. He hadn’t told Dean because there hadn’t been time. He debates for a moment on how much to tell Garten and finally decides on full honesty, no point in hiding it here.

“I am very well skilled with a bow and arrow, and Dean trained me heavily on how to use a knife before I got here, he also showed me basic gun training and hand to hand combat.”  
“Good,” Garten’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and glee. “This is great news, you’re a well rounded fighter, that will be good for you in the arena, but here’s the deal, do not show them how good you are at anything in training, not until the final test when the others competitors can’t see you.”

“Why, isn’t that the point of training, to continue practicing what I know to get better at it and to get a higher score from the testers.”  
“Do you think you can get any better with the bow and arrow?”  
Cas considered it for a moment, he didn’t want to sound narcissistic but honestly, he didn’t think he could.

“No, honestly.”

“Ok then, so why do you need to practice? It’s better that you have surprise on your side in the arena.”

“So why do I need a high score from the testers?”  
“Same reason, surprise, if you get a high score, and I don’t mean a perfect twelve, but a nice nine or ten would be good, that will make the others unsure of you, even fearful because they won’t know how you got it and that element will keep most of them away from you, at least for a while.”

“But not all.”  
“No, not all, Gregory is your biggest threat, he’s out for you already, he almost said as much in his interview.”

Castiel nodded, he had heard some offhand remarks from the other competitor about taking out the angels that he didn’t feel worthy of returning to heaven. It was odd that Castiel’s response to why he wasn’t returning to heaven was almost the same, that he wasn’t worthy. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but now he saw that he had basically drawn the line between himself and Gregory.

“I understand, so I just flub my way through the next few days and unleash my abilities in the test. It does make sense.”  
“Of course it does, I thought of it. Anyway, get some sleep, you look like shit.”  
Garten smirks at him and claps him on the shoulder on his way by.

Cas hadn’t been sure if he would sleep at all this week but exhaustion from all of the emotion of the day washes over him and it isn’t long before he’s out, Dean at the forefront of his mind. He doesn’t dream, but just remembers Dean’s face all night, a reminder of who he is fighting for.


	7. Preparation

Castiel arrives at the main gym floor early. It is a huge room that has been subdivided into various different stations. One has a large dummy in the centre, surrounded by tables containing various sizes of knives. Another has targets along the wall with bows and arrows lined up a good distance away. He takes in all of the options and takes note of the ones that he might actually want to get some practice at. Knife throwing is at the top of that list, along with the swords, since Dean hadn’t even brought that up as an option. The weapon areas also make him consider possibly arena locations. There are no guns, but that isn’t unusual, but what there is leaves the possibilities fairly open to anything on land. Perhaps Matew was right, no water or desert type location this time.

The rock climbing wall gets his attention in particular. He had already been considering the possibility of going above ground as a method of avoiding the others and he very much wants to spend as much time as possible on that wall. He hopes he can use the knowledge when climbing trees or other structures if they are available.

The other competitors arrive soon after, each of them eyeing the others and Castiel in particular but he ignores them, keeping his eyes forward. One of them stands close to him, purposely nudging his shoulder to indicate his presence and Cas doesn’t have to look to know it’s Gregory, staking his claim.

An older man with grey hair and a round face steps in front of them. His eyes are big and round and shadowed by his large, thick brows. His broad nose and full lips give him an almost cartoonish look. Castiel doesn’t recognize him, but assumes that he’s been doing this for a while.

“Good morning people, welcome to day one of training, my name is Roland and I will be supervising you over the next three days. This is how things are going to go. As you can see we have several stations set up for you to practice at. This morning, you will visit each one for a set amount of time, giving you the opportunity to get a feel for it. After lunch and for the rest of these three days you will be able to choose whichever ones you want to spend your time at. This all of course culminates in your final test on the fourth day.”

He levels a long look at them before continuing.

“Now, some ground rules for training, the first is the most critical, you will not engage any of your fellow competitors in any fighting in this room, and you will not use any of the weapons in here against them. Save it for the arena. Any one who breaks this rule will be punished severely; you can count on that. The second rule is that none of the weapons are to leave this room. You may use them so long as you are in here practicing but they stay here when you leave. Finally, you cannot use any of the weapons on yourself, don’t be a coward. Alright, understood?”

They all nod in unison.

“Good, let’s get started.”

The next few minutes are spent dividing them into smaller groups, ones they will stay with throughout the morning as they visit each station. Not surprisingly Gregory finds a way to be in Castiel’s group. He is happy though when Clara joins them. Despite reminding himself repeatedly that he needs to consider her an enemy, he finds himself drawn to the slight woman with her big laugh and twinkling eyes. He has no idea how in hell she has found herself in this situation, but she seems to just be taking it in stride.

The first of the eight stations they are sent to is the bow and arrows. Nerves ripple through him as they approach it, his mind is conflicted as he desperately wants to make sure that he is still capable with the weapon but at the same time he sees the logic in Garten’s advice.

Gregory immediately volunteers to go first, throwing Castiel a smug smile before arming himself and aiming at the target.

Clara nudges him in the ribs with her shoulder and says “what a jackass,” and throws him a friendly smile and he can’t help but laugh.

Gregory hits the centre of the target all three times he shoots and his eyes are deadly as they focus on Cas as he steps up to take his turn. Clara just looks at Gregory and rolls her eyes and Cas feels himself smiling again.

The bow is familiar in his hands, the curve fits into his hands naturally and he longs to stand shooting for hours but he can’t, he has to focus. He aims for the centre but purposefully doesn’t put enough pull into it and the arrow sails to the ground far short of the target. He hears Gregory huff a laugh but ignores him. His second shot he aims just shy of the target, bouncing off the cement wall and clattering to the ground again. His third shot hits the target, but barely and he hopes he’s appeared inept enough to be believable. Gregory certainly seems convinced but Clara less so, she eyes him suspiciously as he retakes his place beside her. She says nothing though and quietly steps forward to take her turn. She isn’t that great at it herself, hitting the target but just at the edges. The large bow makes her appear even smaller and she has trouble controlling it. Cas’s heart hurts again, she shouldn’t be doing this, it’s so unfair and wrong.

She smiles warmly at him as she rejoins him and he feels heavy as they move to their next station.

Their pattern continues the same as they move through knife throwing, hand to hand combat without a weapon, and then with a weapon (in this case a dull knife), axes and other larger weapons and setting traps. Gregory excels at each, Cas tries to appear as incapable as possible and Clara succeeds at nothing. When they finally reach the swords, Cas is beyond despondent at Clara’s chances in the arena. He is starting to consider a plan that will allow him to protect her but he knows it’s not feasible. There can only be one winner of the games and if he somehow managed to succeed in protecting her to the end, how would he end the games? Could he kill her to take the victory himself? He knows he couldn’t, it was far more likely he’d let her kill him to avoid having to hurt her and this was why he couldn’t consider it.

Gregory steps up to the swords as confident as ever and takes his place across from the instructor. After only a few swings by each of them Gregory has the other man pinned to the mat with the blade at his throat. Cas is confident in his abilities with the bow and arrow, but he had been hoping to find something that Gregory wasn’t good at, a weakness that he could exploit when it came to it, but so far there was none.

Sighing deeply as the takes his place on the mat, he grips the handle of the unfamiliar, heavy blade and studies the stance the instructor takes across from him. He had never held a sword before so he knew he really didn’t have to pretend to be inept at this one, he actually was.

Then the instructor is moving so fast he barely sees the blade as it whizzes by his face and clangs against his own. He raises his arms to protect himself and tries to back away from the next swing but takes a glancing blow to his ribs and falls roughly onto the mat. The instructor is immediately over him, cool metal pressing against his throat and just like that, it’s over.

Gregory is openly laughing at him as he pulls himself up from the ground, skin on his ribs stinging from the hit, but Clara looks genuinely concerned. She clearly hadn’t been buying his acting so far all morning, but she can see that this was no farce this time. He nods at her quickly and steps to the side, trying to keep the shock and pain from his face. Clearly he needed to spend some time in this station over the next few days.

Clara moves into the circle on the mat and lifts the sword easily, despite her small stature. She gets into position and waits. The instructor swings at her the same way he had at Castiel, but she is clearly prepared for it and counteracts his move with her own blade, forcing his to the ground before launching an attack of her own. Her sword slices through the air mere centimeters from the man’s jugular and he is forced to jump back to miss getting hit, throwing his stance off entirely. Clara follows him step for step and swings again quickly, striking him hard in the upper bicep of his left arm, making him cry out in pain and drop his sword with his left hand. Her foot comes up suddenly and lands in the centre of his chest, knocking him on his back before she leaps forward and perches over him, her sword at his throat.

Castiel is stunned, she had done a better job than Gregory, and just as fast. Her movements were so skilled and graceful that he is in awe.

The instructor holds his hand up, ending the bout and she releases him and puts her sword down before sauntering back over to stand next to Castiel, winking at him as she does so.

The instructor stands slowly, rubbing his sore arm and then chest.

“I’m glad these are dull blades, else I would be missing an arm right now.”

He raises his black eyebrows at Clara, clearly impressed with her ability. Cas realizes that he may have underestimated her again, and he already knew better than to do so after watching her interview the day before. Even Gregory looks impressed but she isn’t his real target anyway.

Their final station before lunch is the rock climbing wall and Cas pours himself into learning each step. This is the one station where he can practice and even excel at openly because it’s not really a weapon, just an ability and therefore not considered a real threat.

It isn’t long before he’s racing up the wall, well in advance of Gregory who struggles heavily at the bottom of the wall, only making it a few feet up before falling back down to the mat. Cas realizes that he might have finally found a weakness in the other competitor, something that would work well in his favour. He knew that if he could get his hands on a bow and arrow and find a nice tall tree to climb, he could be relatively safe for extended periods of time.

A bell rings, indicating it is time for lunch. They all file out of the training room single file and he notices that there are a few others who are limping or in varying degrees of pain. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who had had some trouble through the morning, the dull ache in his ribs reminds him of his failure.

He’s not surprised when Clara immediately joins him at his table, but none of the others do. They all segment off into specific groups. The trained fighters like Gregory all sit together and spend the entire hour being as loud and raucous as possible. The frightened ones all find spaces on their own, barely looking at anyone else and barely eating. Cas isn’t really hungry himself but knows he needs to eat, to build up a store of fat on his body to give him extra time in the arena if food is scarce.

Clara eats like a horse, devouring the lasagna like it’s her last meal. She chatters through the meal about the morning training, which areas she wants to work on, which areas she doesn’t. Cas isn’t sure if she is pointedly ignoring his silence or isn’t aware of it and his mind drifts away from her and Dean creeps in. He had promised himself not to torment his mind with thoughts of Dean but had steadily broken that promise every single day and night. He wonders what Dean is doing at that moment, if he was worrying about him, or if he had a case to keep him busy. Clara’s hand on his arm pulls him from his revelry.

“Alright you, we’re alone now, be honest, you aren’t that shitty of a fighter, are you?”

On the outside, Clara looked like someone’s grandmother, all sweet and petite, then she cursed and he was quickly reminded that she was anything but. He couldn’t help but laugh a little at her upfront attitude.

“Between you and me, I have a lot of learning to do.”

He hates being deceitful with her, so chooses to just be vague. She immediately narrows her eyes at him and squeezes his arm.

“I have a good idea of what you are up to, and I know why, and trust me, that jackass over there believes every second of it, but be careful not to over do it, we all know you were a high ranking officer in the garrison, we know you know how to fight.”

Her gaze is boring into him and it forces it his eyes down to the table.  
“I know how to fight like an angel.”

“Yes, an angel that has been spending time with two hunters for how long?”

He hears the smirk in her tone and knows that she isn’t being accusatory, she just doesn’t like being lied to. She releases her grip on his arm and pats it congenially.

“Relax Castiel, I won’t tell anyone, though I’d sure like it if you could teach me how to climb like that.”

He laughs softly.

“Sure, it’s a deal, though I would love some pointers on how to use a sword.”

She grins at him, her green eyes twinkling.

“Yes, I noticed there was no acting involved there, you’re lucky those blades are dull or you’d be in two right now.”

The rest of the training day passes quickly. Clara and Castiel stick together and he helps her with her climbing, and she teaches him the basics of sword fighting. He knows the rest of the competitors are watching them, some with amusement and some with curiosity but he ignores them.

He’s smiling as he returns to his apartment until he closes the door and remembers that when the games end, one of the two of them will be dead.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean, they are about to announce the rankings from today’s training, are you coming?”

Sam calls out from the front room. Dean slams the laptop closed and sighs deeply before rising and heading in to join them.

Zeke and Matew are both chattering excitedly and gearing up for the announcement.

“Ok folks, here it is, the full list of rankings based on what the game makers saw today during training.”

The list of the first ten pops up on screen and Dean scans in quickly for Cas’s name. Gregory is in first and there is no sign of his own angel in the rest of the names. His heart drops as he scans the next set of ten and still, Castiel is missing. He finally finds him in twenty-first place and he has to swallow hard to not be sick.

“Interesting, either Cas really fucked up today, or he’s got a strategy.” Meg states in her usual dead-pan manner.

Dean understands immediately, Cas could be playing dumb essentially to avoid notice, but it still worries him that there is a chance that he didn’t train the angel enough before they took him.

“Any luck?” Sam asks him quietly.

“No Sam,” Dean snaps, “I’ve got nothing to go on though, I don’t even know where to begin looking for the arena.”

Sam nods thoughtfully, politely ignoring his tone, it was a long-shot and he had tried to tell Dean that. He had started looking the night before just in case they needed to go get Cas. The reactions from the crowd at the interview had made Dean suspicious of what was really happening. Naomi and whoever was pulling her strings had led Cas to believe that he was being punished by all of heaven for what he had done, but the crowd was clearly not angry at him. This meant that in fact it was a small minority punishing him, meaning there was a very real chance that Cas had a giant target on his back and these games were being used as a method of finishing him off, once and for all. Meg had declared that even if they found the arena, they wouldn’t be able to get inside, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to look anyway, but without any information to even use as a starting point, it had been useless.

“Told you,” Meg states, “best you can do is try to figure out where they are doing the training and all of the interviews and shit.”

“How the hell do I figure that out Meg? You’ve got all the answers, you know about this shit, help me!” Dean is standing now, right in front of the demon, glowering down at her, but she doesn’t even tense.

“I don’t know Dean,” she shrugs her shoulders and then sense his next question before he even asks it, “and yes, if I did know, I’d tell you, but they are pretty good at keeping this shit secret. All we can do is keep watching and hoping we spot some sort of landmark, but I’m warning you, it’s very unlikely you will.”

Immediately his anger deflates and is replaced with despondency. He knows she’s right. But at least when he was looking for the arena, he felt useful, even if it was pointless.

Sam gives him a sad smile as he passes and he heads to bed to try to sleep.

Tonight he dreams of Castiel running through trees, being pursued by unseen forces, and he looks terrified. Castiel trips on something and falls and his pursuer is over him immediately. Dean can’t see a face on the attacker, there is just a blank hole where a face should be. Cas cowers on the ground as the other man raises his arm, a knife in his hand and brings it down swiftly.

Dean wakes up panting, his body and clothes soaked with sweat. He spends the rest of the night on the laptop, searching aimlessly.

 

* * *

 

 

The next three days of training pass quickly for Cas. He spends them entirely with Clara despite all the bells going off in his head telling him not to get attached. On the third day they release the final rankings before the real test in front of the game makers and he’s pleased to see he hasn’t made it above eighteenth. The only reason he’s made any improvement at all is because of his abilities with climbing and the small amount of progress he has made with the sword, since those are the only two he has focused on all week.

The day of the test starts as normal, with them each practicing in the morning before lunch. After lunch they are lined up in the hall outside of the training room to each await their turn. As usual, because he was the last to arrive at the training centre, he’s last to go in for his test. The time passes slowly and the young woman who is just ahead of him sits beside him shaking and throwing him frightened glances. He would try to comfort her, offer her a smile if he thought it would help, but he’s forever reminded that he’s the reason she’s there in the first place and he can’t bring himself to do it because he knows that his comfort would be wrong for her.

When his turn finally arrives he enters the room quietly and steps to the centre. The game makers are all lined up in their viewing gallery, staring at him with open hostility and he realizes that it’s the first time that he has faced real ire from anyone since he has arrived. In a strange way it empowers him, suddenly he feels combative and determined to show them that he’s not someone to be messed with.

“You have five minutes to show us your skills in as many areas as you wish.” He recognizes Horatio, the head game maker immediately from his voice before he focuses on his face. The man hasn’t changed much from the previous year and it’s the first time he realizes that they have managed to hold a games every year for the last few years despite the chaos going on both in heaven and on earth. It’s a reminder that some things don’t seem to change and brutality remains a spectator sport no matter what’s going on outside. Horatio glares down at him with his dark eyes, his black hair pulled perfectly into place and his sharp nose creating a shadow on his face much like the beak on a bird.

Castiel nods at his instructions.

“You may begin now.”

He can feel the weight of their eyes on him as he steps up to the knives and picks up a few of the daggers. Rolling his shoulders to release the tension he aims and throws three in quick sequence, each blade striking the dummy in the centre of the chest. A soft murmur comes from the gallery as he moves on to the hand-to-hand combat area. It only takes him thirty seconds to land the instructor on his back in the circle. The murmurs increase in volume.

“You have three minutes left.” Horatio announces, his voice even and cold.

Castiel walks to his final destination and lifts the bag of arrows over his head before picking up the bow. He glances at the gallery before beginning and finds them all watching him with rapt attention, clearly he had done a good job of fooling them. Smiling to himself his grabs an arrow and fires, and then another, splitting his first arrow down the middle with the second in a rather Robin Hood type of move. Spinning quickly he fires another arrow at the dummy on the other side of the room, landing it in the centre of the knives he had thrown only a few minutes earlier. Getting fully into the swing of things and starting to enjoy himself he begins hitting even more difficult targets around the room, pinning one of the rock climbing ropes to the wall, landing an arrow just above the head of one of the instructors who had been leaning lazily against the wall, making the man shriek in shock and drop to the floor. He soon finds the bag empty and decides he’s probably done enough. Putting the bow and bag down on the floor he nods at the game makers shocked faces and leaves the room. He has no idea if he has any time left or not, but he doesn’t care. He knows that he’s done what he needed to do. He proved his point.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later he is sitting in the living room area of his apartment surrounded by Garten, Chesney and all of the other stylists who have gathered to get him ready for the parade that night. But first they all wait with baited breath to see the results of the tests.

Garten had peppered him with questions from the moment he had come through the door, but he hadn’t said much, just that he had done as Garten had instructed and that he hoped it was enough.

They sit silently shoulder to shoulder as the first result comes up on screen.

“Ladies and gentlemen we have the results of today’s tests and so without further ado, let’s begin shall we?” Zeke asks the audience as though they are sitting in the room with him. James’s picture comes up on screen first, and dramatic music fills the room for a few seconds before a number seven comes up next to the picture. Castiel is somewhat surprised, he hadn’t been paying attention to the large man over the training days but had assumed that he would do better than that.

Clara is next and he feels dread well up his throat. Her score is also a seven and he feels a bit of relief, clearly she had shown her sword fighting abilities in the test and this score made her just that much less of an easy target.

The next few are all in the same range, seven’s, eights and one nine from one of the trained fighters.

Gregory’s picture comes up on the screen finally before a number ten pops up next to his picture. Castiel isn’t surprised in the least, if anything, he’s surprised that the other man didn’t get a full twelve, after watching him excel at every weapon in the room over the last four days.

Following Gregory are the weaker ones, mostly fours and fives and his heart hurts for them. The young woman who was before him at the interview and test comes up finally, he learns that her name is Elise and her score is a six. He grieves for her for a few moments before he sees his own face pop up on the screen and nerves trickle through him. He starts to worry that maybe he had been a bit too showy in the test, and that maybe they will punish him with a low score no matter what he did.

When the twelve pops up next to his picture the room goes dead silent for a few seconds before Garten whoops out in excitement and slaps him on the back.

Zeke and Matew are damn near flailing when they come back on screen and Zeke is exclaiming how they have never seen a twelve before and that Castiel is now almost a sure thing to win this year.

To Castiel however, that twelve spells his doom. If he wasn’t a target before, he really was now because there was no way in hell the trained fighters would let him just go disappear and hide through the games. They would hunt him like dogs, to prove themselves better than him.

Garten catches his mood quickly and forces him to look at his face by guiding his chin.

“I know what you’re thinking, big fucking target right? You may be right, but you are also going to make them nervous to hunt you because they don’t know how in hell you got that twelve. It’s gonna be ok, trust me.”

Cas wants to believe him, really wants to but he can’t bring himself to.

He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it all before he’s being whisked into the bedroom to change for the parade. Chesney had toned down all of his plans for Cas after the first interview when he had removed all the makeup and hair product. He keeps it simple again, to the point of casual, dressing Cas in a soft grey t-shirt and faded jeans with a few rips in the knees as though they were well-worn and not brand new. Over the t-shirt he wears a simple black hooded knit sweater that he only zips up half-way. He is left unshaven, with his hair tousled and relaxed as well.

When he is ready he looks at himself in the mirror and then at Chesney questioningly.

Chesney smiles at him before answering the silent question.

“You look human, approachable, trustable and most of all non-threatening, like a friend and not some done up freak. People responded to your realness at the interview, I wanted to continue that.”

Cas could see his point, usually the parade outfits were so ridiculous and the makeup so garish that the competitors looked like plastic dolls, dressed up like toys.

“That’ll work.” Garten states from the door before giving Cas a thumbs up.

Taking a deep sigh he heads towards the door. This was his last night before going into the arena and the last thing he wanted to be doing was this parade, but at least, thanks to Chesney, he’d be comfortable. He couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled Dean in his new attire and wondered silently if that hadn’t been on purpose by either Chesney or Garten, but he didn’t worry about it, just appreciated it.

As he reaches the bedroom door, Garten stops him and holds him back, waving the others forward.

“I wanted you to have this.” His lifts Cas’s hand and drops a necklace into it. At first Cas is unaware of just what’s he looking at until he lifts the simple leather rope and looks at the charm hanging from it. It’s the necklace that Dean had worn for so long, right up until he had thrown it in the garbage in sorrow. Sam had given it to him when they were just kids and he is stunned to see it now, again, in this of all places.

“How?... I mean, where the hell did you get this?”  
“Friend of a friend let’s say, yeah? Thought it would help you through tonight and well, tomorrow and on after that. A reminder of why you are doing this.”

Cas doesn’t get the chance to ask any more questions before he’s being ushered towards the front door by Chesney, who’s frantic about time. He slips the necklace over his head and hides it under his t-shirt, the cold metal of the charm resting against his skin.


	8. Pomp and Circumstance

He remembers what he once said to Dean, years ago while he was still unsure of his path. Something about freedom being a length of rope that God wants you to hang yourself with. He chuckles to himself as he remembers it at such a strange moment in his life, because never before had he seen so much truth in those words. Though in this case, he’s sure that God has nothing to do with this. But it remains the same, freedom was a length of rope, and he’s heading into an unknown arena the next day to potentially die because of the choice he made to be free.

He’s sitting in the back of a black ’67 Chevy Impala, two door convertible. Clearly an homage to Dean’s Baby, and he’s absolutely sure that it was Garten’s idea. He has no idea just how much the man knows about his relationship with Dean, but it’s getting eerie now.

The rest of the parade lines up ahead of him, all in their finery and all quietly staring at him in his simple sweater and jeans, as though he didn’t even try at all. He’s pretty sure that Chesney probably put an immense amount of thought into his outfit, possibly several days, but it doesn’t look like it.

He can see Elise’s back in front of him. She’s sitting in a white wrought iron carriage that resembles a birdcage and her skin is covered in variegated green and blue feathers. There are even tiny feathers glued to her eyelashes, and Castiel realizes for the first time that she is actually a very beautiful woman, though clearly she is extremely uncomfortable with the lack of modesty her attire provides. Her green eyes are slightly slanted in a catlike manner and framed by perfectly arched eyebrows and high cheekbones. Her lips are full and pouty and painted with a pale peach colour. He wonders for a moment if she would have been a good match for Sam, but quickly shakes the thought from his mind. She glances back at him and catches him looking at her, and blush colours her cheeks, adding to her already pretty face and he quickly diverts his eyes. He knows she’s already uncomfortable, the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse. Out of his peripheral vision he can see her eyeing his attire and vehicle with some envy and curiosity. He notes quietly that it’s the first time all week he hasn’t seen her terrified, this time she’s just embarrassed.

A loud orchestra of horns announces the start of the parade and he can see the first vehicle, a horse-drawn chariot, starting them off. He tries to see Clara, see what her stylists did to her this time but she’s hidden from his view. One day at lunch Clara had regaled him with the story of her stylists and what they had put her through for the interview. Something about a trash bag dress and beehive hairdo, it had made him laugh so hard he had come down with a case of the hiccups.

When he finally sees her on the big screen, he laughs out loud despite himself. She’s dressed in a garish red, sequined body suit with flame wings sticking out the back. Her vehicle is also a chariot, complete with painted flames of it’s own. Her hair is pulled back and up in a style that reminds Castiel of Marg Simpson, a show that Dean had made him watch once. Though instead of blue, her hair is painted red and sprinkled with gold glitter. Her makeup reminds Castiel of the band Twisted Sister, whose album cover Dean had also showed him once.

Still laughing he shakes his head and glances at Elise, who is staring at him wide-eyed in surprise. He points at the big screen as Clara goes sailing by to help her understand and a few seconds later she gives a quick, shrill laugh of her own and grins at him.

Then something remarkable happens, something that Cas knows he will remember forever in his heart and his mind. She fixes him in her gaze, smiles warmly at him and nods. It is an acknowledgement that she has forgiven him. In an instant he goes from laughing to feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. He hadn’t asked her for her forgiveness, resigning himself instead to forever chastising his actions that had led her here, but once he has it, the weight in his chest lifts. He smiles softly back at her and nods as well and then they are moving, the moment is over but not forgotten.

When he finally enters the parade area he recognizes it as some sort of sports arena, perhaps football as the walls around him are bleachers full of spectators, thousands of them. The volume from them reaches a fever pitch when he finally makes his entrance and he catches a glimpse of his own bewildered face on the jumbo screen as he looks around.

When they have finally all stopped in a semi-circle around the stage, it takes quite a few minutes for the crowd to settle down to silence. Horatio takes the stage and microphone when at last they do.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the one-hundred and twenty-first Hunger Games!”

The crowd roars again, increasing in volume once again as Castiel’s face comes up on the screen. Cas can’t help but notice the look of displeasure that crosses Horatio’s face at that, it’s clear that the game makers and those in charge were not expecting his popularity. He wonders if it will mess up their plans to slaughter him in the arena. If there was one thing the game makers hated, it was being accused of rigging the games.

Then a thought starts working it’s way into his head. Things begin to add up as he goes over them. They are in New York, America, where Dean is. He is the last to arrive at the games, as though a place was being held for him, that they knew he would be coming. The clear ire on the faces of the game makers when he had been in his test, and the high mark they had given him, highest ever. He knew that he had probably earned at least an eleven, displaying clear talent with the bow and arrow, but giving him the twelve seemed deliberate, as though displaying to the audience that he was a fighter, someone to be feared, possibly hated. Most notably were those he was to go up against, angels like Elise who were in the games because they had chosen free will based on his advice. And then Gregory, someone who clearly was capable of killing him easily. He had already wondered previously in passing if these games were set up around him, as punishment for him and a reminder to him of his position on the food chain, but it was now crystal clear to him.

These games were about him. They were set up to destroy him.

His breath starts to quicken as he comes to this conclusion, knowing that he has made the wrong choice, he has walked directly into their trap and there is nothing he can do now, no escape. The only option he has is to fight like hell in the arena and do everything he can to survive, to ruin their plans. But surviving meant that Clara and Elise had to die. His head is telling him that chances were, they would die anyway, just in another set of games or for some reason that the leaders came up with, but his heart still hurts anyway.

He thinks of Dean, wishes that he could get a message to him, get him to help, but there is nothing he can do.

He sees his face on the screen again, but instead of bewildered, now he looks panicked.

The crowd begins to cheer louder and Horatio glares at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean stares in horror as the parade begins, it’s beyond comprehension to him as to why they would bother with such a charade. Seeing as they are intending on murdering the majority of these people anyway, why display them this way.

An older woman appears on screen wearing a red sequined body suit with a matching red beehive hairdo that reminds him an awful lot of Marg Simpson. The woman looks less than pleased with her attire but smiles and waves at the crowd all the same.

He watches the rest of the competitors as they come forward, each in a more ridiculous outfit than the last. Gregory is dressed in a small animal skin wrap that would make Tarzan blush and riding a large black horse. His skin is shiny like gold and it’s clear they are aiming to show off his physical strength as intimidation.

When he sees Elise, beautiful in blue and green in her birdcage he knows that Castiel is next and his breathing speeds up.

He is not prepared for what he sees. He was expecting some sort of ludicrous outfit and ride, not some sort of homage to him and his own car. Cas is perched on the back of a black Impala convertible, wearing a simple black hooded sweater and ripped jeans. The first thing that runs through his mind is that in that outfit, with his hair ruffled up and face sporting the beginnings of a beard, Cas is the sexiest human being he has ever seen. It takes him a few minutes to pull his mind away from that fact.

The second thing that he notices is Cas’s expressions as the event goes on. At first he’s bewildered, staring at the audience in awe as they all cheer themselves hoarse at his appearance.

It seems that every time the focus on Cas, his expression has changed. First bewildered, then curious as Horatio takes the stage, then suspicious and finally, and this is the one that stops Dean’s heart, panicked. He runs over Horatio’s words a thousand times in his head and can’t for the life of him figure out what has scared Cas, but something has, it’s as though Cas has suddenly discovered something and now he is a deer caught in the headlights.

“What the hell just happened?” Comes Meg’s question and Dean’s glad he’s not the only one who noticed.

“I don’t know, but Cas looks spooked? Think someone said something to him that we didn’t see?”  
Dean shakes his head, it’s more than that, he can tell by Cas’s eyes, something has just gone very wrong.

“We have to find that arena, something’s wrong.”

“Dean, you’ve been looking non stop and haven’t found anything, and besides, you know what Meg said, if you do, by some miracle, find the place, how are you going to get in.”

Dean stands and kicks his chair over, clattering it into the faded yellow walls.

“I don’t know Sam, but you can see his face, something is wrong and I’m not going to stand by and just watch him get slaughtered in an unfair fight, because I suspect that’s what he’s just figured out.”

“What makes you think that Dean?” Sam asks quietly. “I haven’t seen anything indicating that.”

“I can just tell Sam, ok, I know Cas, I spent a long time in purgatory with him and I just know the guy ok?” He wants so much to just tell the truth, that he’s in love with Cas, that’s why he knows, but he can’t and swallowing the truth down hurts his chest.

“Well, one things for sure, the place they are holding the parade in looks a hell of a lot like Madison Square Garden.” Meg adds dully.

Both Sam and Dean refocus on the TV and it’s there, the tiniest signs of where the location is.

“Ok, so they are in New York? Coincidence that we are in New Jersey right now?” Sam asks.

“Are we to assume that the arena for the games themselves will also be in New York?”

“No, not likely, the arena itself will be somewhere remote, but they aren’t doing a very good job of hiding where the parade is, I guess they are assuming that you guys aren’t looking for Cas, seeing as this was his choice and all.”  
Meg makes sense, Dean knows it, but they have less than twenty-four hours before the games begin and right now, this is their only lead. He’s out the door before Sam can even get his coat. He just hopes that they can get there in time.

 

* * *

 

 

When he gets back to the apartment he’s angry, but resigned. He knows he can’t change anything and that he needs to proceed with the plan as it’s always been. In some ways, knowing the truth helps, now he’ll be more wary of the game makers in the arena than the other competitors, but this spells disaster in terms of him having any hope for sponsors, if he had any to begin with.

Garten senses his mood immediately, despite the half-emptied bottle of whiskey on the table.

“What’s up? Jealous you didn’t get to wear sequins like the others?”

His attempt at brevity goes over like a lead balloon.

“It’s a setup, it’s all a fucking setup.” Castiel picks up an ornate vase as he says this and slams it against the wall, shards coating the floor almost to the kitchen.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, man, settle down, that stupid thing probably cost more than a new car.”

Castiel doesn’t care, his fury overtaking his sense of propriety. He spins to face Garten, gesturing with his hands as he yells.

“IT’S A SET UP! This was all planned out to kill me. Don’t you get it? The final punishment for choosing free will, because if I had chosen to just follow their orders, then this wouldn’t be happening!”

Garten levels an even look at him, one eyebrow only slightly raised, his mouth slack.

“You done?”

Cas’s shoulders drop, his hands slapping against his thighs, his breathing hard. After a few moments he nods.

“Good. Of course it’s a set-up you moron, what the hell did you think was happening? I only got the call for these games because they had planned them around you. I guess they figured on you continuing to try to get past them and they got ready. Hell, they picked me to coach you as a way to cripple your chances. But phooey on them, I chose to give a shit about you just to piss them off, and so far you have impressed me, not an easy thing to do. So listen up, you’re going to go in there tomorrow and continue to piss them off right? Win this fucking thing Cas, I know you can, win it and let it be the ultimate fuck you to them.”

Cas’s mouth twitches as he takes this in. It made sense, the way Garten had said the word ‘interesting’ the first time they met and Castiel defied him. It was a test, he had passed and now he had this man as his ally.

“Why did you become a coach?” He’s not sure where the question really came from, but suddenly he’s very curious, because Garten seemed in every way to be the antithesis to the very word and action.

“I won the games about twenty years ago. I chose to stay human and threatened to out them. They threatened punishment and like you, I was given a choice: either I become a coach and train the future murder victims, or I could spend eternity in hell, apparently they have that power.” He looks down and waves his hand, chasing the thought away. “I chose coaching hoping I could actually help some people, even help them escape, but it became clear that there was nothing I could do, so I gave up.”

“Wait, you chose to stay human?” Cas is stunned, as far as he knew, he would be the first one to make that choice. Hell, Zeke and Matew had been going on about it for days. He had never heard of anyone else choosing the human option in all the years of the games.

“Yup, but, that part was never televised.” Garten laughs, eyes twinkling with humour.

“Was that another reason you wanted to help me? Because you knew I would choose to stay human as well?”

“Nope, it was all about pissing them off, hell I didn’t know you would make that choice until those two blowhards announcing this shit mentioned it. That’s when I did some research on you, learned about the Winchesters, how close you are to them and made some inquiries.”

“Made some inquiries? Where did you get the necklace?” Cas steps towards him, invading his space in his quest to get answers. Garten raises his brows slightly, amused and sits down at the table, refilling his glass.

“I told you, friend of a friend.”  
“That’s not an answer, how?”

Garten sighs heavily, “you don’t want to know, trust me, just know that my reasons for giving it to you were the best of intentions. I knew the reminder of the people you care about would help you, give you a connection to him, that Dean guy, since by all accounts, you two are quite close.”  
So Garten did have some ideas of their relationship, now more curious than ever, Cas presses on.

“I do want to know… I have to know, where did you get it?”  
Garten stares at him under his brow for a moment, clearly annoyed that Cas won’t just drop it, but how could he? This mattered immensely at this moment.

Another deep sigh, followed by a deep gulp of the amber liquid before Garten finally answers him.

“Crowley.”

Cas’s jaw drops. How in hell could Crowley have even got his hands on it? Dean had simply discarded it into a garbage can, albeit after Cas has declared it worthless, but why in hell would Crowley bother to get it?

“How the hell did he end up with it?”  
“I guess one of his minions found it and gave it to him, he held on to it because he still believed it was useful for his own purposes, and he finally did find a use for it. He gave it to me to give to you as a way of, shall we say, impairing your ability to focus. Clearly no love lost there. I gave it to you because I saw it’s value as being positive, that it would give you a connection and help you to keep focused. If I’m wrong, then say so.”

“No, you aren’t wrong, though I can see what his intent was.” Cas shakes his head a few times to dislodge the annoyance. It was odd feeling almost grateful to someone like Crowley who was very much intending harm and then had mistakenly done good.

He reaches up and pulls the amulet from under his shirt and runs his fingers over it, memorizing the plains and each engraving.

Garten smiles at him and drains his glass before standing to take his leave. Without words he squeezes Cas’s shoulder as he passes, pausing only for a moment and then goes out the door. Cas is alone for the last time for the foreseeable future. Lifting the amulet he presses his lips against it once and squeezes it in his hand, silently vowing to live through the next few days and beyond.


	9. Countdown

In all its years on the road, Dean didn’t think that Baby had been pushed this hard. Sure, Jersey wasn’t that far from New York, but it might as well have been on the other side of the country for the hurry he was in.

By the time they reached Madison Square Gardens, it was dark, aside from the marquee, lit up advertising a coming event. The doors were all locked and the security guard inside didn’t take kindly to him banging on the door demanding to be let in. Stalking around the side of the building, a back door proves useless as well.

Sam and Meg quietly follow him around, neither one wanting to say it, but it is written clearly all over their faces that this is a useless endeavour. After an hour of pounding on doors and storming around, Meg finally breaks the silence.

“Dean, they’re gone, long gone, we need to get back to the house.”

“NO, Meg, I have to find him! Something is wrong, even you saw that, we have to help him!”

Dean’s panic is at full throttle now, his heart pounding a hole through his chest. He knows he’s behaving like an insane man, but love will do that to you.

Sam grabs his shoulders as he tries to head towards the back door again, and Dean fights his grip, tearing his shirt in the process.

“Dean, stop! We have to regroup, they’re gone, and we need to start working on finding the arena.”  
“Really Sam? What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing all week?” He yells. His tirade is now catching the attention of nearby tourists who are peering at him curiously, one even takes a picture of him, earning a stern glare from all three of them.

“Dean, I know, but tomorrow we’ll get to see the arena, and we need to be back in front of that TV to do so. Maybe we’ll be able to recognize something like we did with this place.”

“And then what, find it, and arrive too late again? After Cas is already…” He breaks off with a breath. He can’t bring himself to say the word dead. It’s crossed his mind constantly, almost beratingly, trying to get his mind around the fact that Cas could die, definitely could die, but saying it out loud proves impossible.

“Dean, he’s strong, we have to have faith in Cas’s abilities to fight.”  
“What if we call Crowley?”  
The idea hits him suddenly. Crowley could help, Dean knows he has the ability to find things, locate Cas, pull him out of that arena and bring him home. He was more than willing to trade anything, give him the tablet, Kevin, hell even his soul again to get Cas back.

“WHAT?” Shrieks Meg. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Dean, seriously, what are you thinking?” Both of them stare at him incredulously. He has no doubt that he is all wide-eyed and crazy looking right now, but he doesn’t care. He’s off the deep end, he knows it, but can’t stop.   
“He can find Cas, we all know that, we just have to barter with him, right?”

Meg levels a stern look at him, her newly blond hair curling in the wind.

“Dean, you are nuts if you think that there is any chance in hell Crowley would help Cas. It’s probably safe to say that he is instead putting money down on how fast Cas gets killed and would gladly do it himself.”

Despondency washing over him he sinks down to sit on the pavement. She’s right, he knows that. There is literally nothing else he can do but go back and try to find the arena, something he already knows is a lost cause. It’s up to Cas now, he has to survive this. He has to.

 

* * *

 

There was a time Cas loved sunrises. Mostly because he enjoyed watching the sun as it slowly lit up Dean’s peaceful, slumbering face and the way he would wrinkle his nose and open one eye blearily before the other as he woke up.

This morning he’s alone. No Dean beside him, just a cold empty section of the bed and a pile of multi-coloured silk pillows that feel hard under his head. He tried to sleep, he really did, knowing that along with being well-fed, being well-rested would be critical going in today, but it was no use. His brain refused to shut off.

Spending the week training, getting to know his opponents, even growing close to them had been a huge mistake. Clara and Elise had been part of what had kept him awake all night, their faces haunting him.

His conversation with Garten the night before was the other reason he hadn’t slept. He was no longer surprised by the revelation he had come upon at the parade. He wondered what would have happened had he decided not to go with the games, to obey, what would they have made him do?

He rolls over onto his back, the amulet sliding up his skin and settling as a small weight at the base of his throat, giving him the faint feeling of choking. Killing himself wasn’t an option. He knew that. It would be allowing them to win, since his death was the entire goal of this operation as it was anyway. He had to fight, he had to win. There was no other option.

He hears the front door open and Chesney’s voice as he yells out his hello.

Taking in one more deep breath, as though leaving this bed is the actual start of the games, he slides his legs over the side and sits up. The light coming in the window is bracing and he draws some strength from it before standing and going into the living room to greet his stylist.

“Morning sunshine! Are you all ready for today?” Chesney is doing his very best to sound cheerful, upbeat, but he is failing. His eyes give away his despair.

“How long have you been a stylist for the games Chesney?” Cas asks, though he already knows the answer in so many ways.

The blond’s fingers fidget slightly at his side for a moment before he answers. He’s dressed in a bight yellow polo shirt with pale denim jeans and black patent shoes. His hair is slicked in place as usual and the patch of hair below his bottom lip is perfectly groomed as always.

“This is my first games actually.” His eyes remained fixed on the carpet as he speaks and Cas understands. This is why the man has become attached to him, he hasn’t learned to keep a cool distance yet from his charge, to avoid the pain of watching them die later on.

“Well, thank you, for all your hard work and friendship. But word of advice, its better if you don’t like the people you are helping, it’ll cause you a lot less pain down the road.”

Chesney’s head pops up for a second, but understanding crosses his face and he nods once before taking a deep breath and clapping his hands together.

“Right, let’s get you ready, I have your assigned outfit with me today.”

He turns and grabs the bags off the couch and hands them to Cas. He’s clearly learned that it’s better to just give Cas the tools and space and let him dress himself.

“Thanks, I guess I’ll go shower and get dressed then.”  
Chesney nods and perches on the couch to wait.

Heading to the bathroom, Cas stands under the hot stream for what feels like forever. He wants to relish in this simple act, take in the heat, because he has no idea where he’s going and he may be cold for a while.

He also knows he’s using it as a delay tactic, but they won’t let him get away with that for long.

Toweling off he pulls his games outfit out of the bags and survey’s it. They have given him a pair of black canvas pants, heavy duty, a deep grey cotton long sleeved t-shirt and a black weatherproof coat with a hood and fleece lining. For his feet there is a pair of black leather hiking boots and warm woolen socks. So cold it is, he thinks. Clearly he’s not going to the Arctic, but somewhere where he can expect to be at least a bit chilled at points.

Slipping into his new clothes he tucks the amulet down inside his shirt again, fearing that if any of the guards on his way into the arena see it that they will take it from him, even though it’s not a weapon by any means. He only glances at himself in the mirror before rejoining Chesney in the living room, but in that glance he can see the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his face taking more form into a beard, but he doesn’t dwell.

He’s not surprised to find Garten has also arrived, milling around the enormous tray of breakfast pastries in the kitchen, though the tone in the room is still somewhat somber.

“Well Cas, you ready?” Garten asks, his tone almost ambivalent, even though Cas knows he cares.

“As I’ll ever be. I have a question though.”  
“Shoot.” Garten stuffs a donut into his mouth and stares at him expectantly.

“If I hadn’t chosen to participate in the games, if I hadn’t chosen free will, what would they have expected me to do?”  
Garten shrugs once.

“Dunno really, I know that killing Dean was on the agenda. From what I’ve heard, they would have remade you into the perfect little soldier you used to be, complete with severing all ties you had here on earth.”  
Garten says this matter of factly, like it’s not really a big deal, but Cas feels his jaw drop. Relief washes over him that he did make the right choice. This way at least, Dean will live he thinks. But then it occurs to him suddenly that Dean’s death is probably still on the agenda as Garten says, but now it will be someone else expected to carry it out, someone who will probably do it without a second thought.

“Garten, I need you to promise me something.”  
Garten looks up from the food platter he’s perusing, eyebrow up in question.

“Well that’s going to depend on what it is I’m promising, you know that.”

“I understand, but I’m hoping you can do this.”  
He stands up straight now, and for once, doesn’t appear to be drunk. Clearly the importance of the day has struck him and he is taking it seriously.

“Cas, you aren’t going to die.”  
“You can’t be sure of that.”  
“I can, I know you, hell, you have died several times and like the damn Energizer Bunny you just keep on going.”  
Cas wonders for a second how he knows about that, but figures it doesn’t matter now.  
“There is no guarantee this time.”  
Suddenly Chesney pipes up from the couch, “oh Cas, you are going to be fine, please stop worrying!”

The stylist is in the dark as to the real conversation going on and instead is quickly sliding into hysterics.

“Chesney, relax, but Garten, I need you to find Dean when this is over, if I don’t make it and warn him. Because I know that his death is still on the ‘agenda’.” Cas gestures with his fingers again.

“No one has really taught you how to use that expression, have they?” Garten asks, a smile playing around his mouth.

“This is serious, if I’m not killing him, someone else will be after him, so promise me you will warn him and at least that way he’ll get closure too, he’ll know I’m dead.”  
Garten sighs loudly in exasperation.

“Fine, I promise, and I’m only promising because I know I’ll never have to deliver on it anyway.” With that he goes back to the food.

Chesney sniffles on the couch.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning passes far too quickly and the knock on the door from the guards signifying that it was time to go sounds like thunder in the silent room. None of them had spoken since their initial conversation, which was unusual especially for Chesney. But it seemed the weight of Castiel’s departure was heavy on him, so he sat quietly sniffling and sneaking looks at the former angel.

Castiel passes the time staring out the window at the cool November morning in New York. The clouds are low, heavy with rain and grey as the mood in the room. The yellow taxis passing on the ground looked like beetles moving swiftly with their work. The rows of umbrellas on the sidewalks shielding the businesspeople like a fast moving river.

He thinks of Dean, what he might be doing at the moment, whether he thinks of him at all and feels his despondency weighing his shoulders down. But he knows the time for feeling sorrow for himself and grieving Dean is over. He needs to focus on the task at hand, but not having knowledge of his final destination makes it hard to mentally prepare.

Garten sits at the kitchen table, drinking cup after cup of coffee, none of it spiked with his usual shot of whiskey. Castiel appreciates that he is choosing to stay sober on this day of all days, though he doubts the teetotal will last beyond his departure.

The knock on the door makes them all jump and their eyes all shift to the unassuming piece of white wood and then to each other. Cas is the first to move, knowing any sort of pause is both pointless and potentially dangerous. The guards aren’t likely to wait long before resorting to some sort of physical pressure.

Chesney and Garten follow him to the door and onward to the elevator. They travel all the way back down to the floor he has not seen since the seven days before when he had first arrived. A black SUV awaits him again and he is surprised when Garten and Chesney climb in with him, the guards choosing the front seat. He was sure their goodbyes would have been by that car and he would be traveling alone, but he is grateful for their presence, silent as it is.

The drive is short, as it had been the first time, and the building they stop in front of is tall, but unfamiliar. The people on the street seem to take no notice of them, only swerving around them on the sidewalk as they pass, eager to get to their destination.

Another long elevator ride and they are on the roof of the building in a small room with a glass door. Cas can see a sleek black helicopter perched on a small pad outside. His ride is there. He continues to walk towards it, assuming that the others are following but when he hears Garten’s protest behind him he stops and turns.

“I am his coach, I am going with him.” Garten is shouting and the two guards are restraining him by his arms.

“No you are not. He makes this trip alone. Say your goodbyes. If you have final advice for him, now is the time to give it.”

It is the first time any of them had heard the guard speak, his voice is deep, threatening, and perfectly suited for his role. The three of them stare at him a moment in surprise before Cas and Garten’s gaze meets, their panicked expressions mirroring each other. Cas had been dreading the goodbye, the point when he would be away from the people he had grown to trust in the seven days he’d been there, the only people he trusted other than Dean and Sam. He knew parting from them would be hard, but had avoided truly thinking about it until this moment and his body feels cold.

Chesney is the first to move, rushing forward and embracing him in a tight hug.

“Thank you for being such a wonderful first for me, and please win! I can’t bear it if you lose.”

He starts to sniffle again in Cas’s ear before a loud sob escapes him and his grip tightens. Cas regains himself enough to finally return the hug, patting Chesney’s back in comfort, as though he isn’t the one going in to face death and the tall blonde is.

Garten finally calms and the guards release him. Cas wonders if he had ever reacted this way before to any of his charges.

Chesney finally lets go, straightening Cas’s jacket as be backs up.

Garten steps forward, waving the guards hands off as he does.

“Relax, you said I could say goodbye, well then damn well let me.”

The older man’s eyes are slightly wet as he steps closer, his hands grip Cas’s shoulder and he holds his gaze.

“You listen to me right now. You will win this fucking thing, you hear me?” He shakes Cas slightly in emphasis. “You will win this fucking thing and then we are going to take this shit down, right?”

Cas nods, he doesn’t want to give away how much he is still without confidence in his abilities, so again, he becomes the one offering comfort.

Garten pulls him in and hugs him, whispering ‘stay alive’ in his ear several times before letting him go and backing away.

One of the guards ushers them back towards the elevator, while the other steps to Cas’s side, motioning him the opposite direction.

The ride is long, and he is unsure of their actual direction. Once they leave New York, there aren’t many landmarks to help him. He’s sure they are heading west, at least mostly west since they don’t head out over the ocean, but that is all he’s sure of.

They land at an airport for a short time, where he is transferred to a small plane with the windows covered. Being unable to see the ground is disorienting for him. The flight is several hours, and when they do land he is quickly shuttled to another SUV with the windows blacked out.

After close to an hour’s drive he can hear the change when the car goes underground and he knows they have arrived. Being unsure of the time zones they crossed, he doesn’t know the time but figures it must be about mid afternoon where they are now, a late start by comparison to other years.

He is led down several tunnels, some seem to be naturally made, possibly by fissures in the earth created hundreds of thousands of years ago.

The guards take him into a small room with dark walls that appear to be steel. In the centre of the room a glass cylinder that is only large enough for one person stands empty. He knows that just above him is the place where he will spend the next hours, days, possibly weeks and where he may also die. The air in the room is musty, damp smelling, but there is the distinct hint of Hickory in the air. Cas feels a tiny spark of hope in his chest, Hickory trees are tall, good for him to climb.

The sound of clicking and an electronic whir gets his attention. He realizes that the cameras are now on him, as they will be full time for the foreseeable future. He feels exposed and quickly organizes his face so it is calm and blank, hiding any true emotion he may be feeling.

The door opens behind him and the guards come in, followed by a smaller man wearing a white lab coat. He’s wearing latex gloves and carrying a syringe in his hand.

He can’t be more than 5’7” tall, with unruly brown hair and black-framed glasses perched on his sharp nose.

He catches Castiel eyeing the syringe and smiles warmly at him.

“Don’t worry Castiel, this is just your microchip so we know where you are. It’ll be just a pinch.”

Still wary, Cas nods and rolls up his sleeve.

The man steps forward and swipes a cold wet pad across Cas’s forearm before inserting the needle end. It only takes a second and there is no blood when he pulls it away.

He smiles warmly at Cas again and nods before retreating from the room. The guards stay in with him this time, one of them gesturing at the cylinder at the same time a loud voice comes over the speakers in the room.

“Two minutes to lift off. Competitors please take your positions.”

The whirring and the clicking continues in the room as Cas moves slowly towards it. He carefully steps onto the metal platform, knowing once his feet are on it, they have to stay there until the starting bell. His hands are sweating and his body feels cold, but he somehow manages to keep his face blank and his legs moving to their final destination.

“One minute until lift off.”

The glass door slides down suddenly, trapping him inside and his calm breaks. Pressing his hands against the glass he tries to push it back up, knowing that his effort is futile. The guards watch him on the other side, their faces tight but void of emotion or any concern at his plight.

The floor starts moving and the scent of the trees gets stronger as he heads upward. The sunlight is blinding for a few seconds when he finally breaches the ground. They appear to be in a clearing of some kind, in a forest of dense oak and hickory trees. He scans the ground quickly, getting his bearings and sees glittering silver between some trees to his right. A water source, he wonders if it is the only one. Scanning further he spots the cornucopia. He’s the farthest from it, a calculated move he’s sure. He can see a variety of items scattered on the ground in front of it. Most of them are dark bags, making their contents unidentifiable. He knows he needs to get something; that he won’t survive without any supplies whatsoever. But as he takes in his opponents, Gregory staring at him hard, he’s not sure how much of a chance he’ll have. A clicking noise above him to his left gets his attention and he turns to see a camera hanging from a wire between the trees pointed straight at him. He wonders for a moment who might be watching him at this moment; if there is anyone who cares about him watching at this moment. He doubts it, and isn’t sure if he would want someone he loves to see him die this way anyway.

“10… 9… 8…” The mechanical voice snaps his attention back to the supplies. He notices a black bag on the ground to his left. It’s on a direct path into the trees, but not to the cornucopia itself.

“5… 4… 3…”

Scanning the circle again he can see the others, including Gregory, now all staring intently at the mouth of the cornucopia and he makes his decision.

“2… 1…”

Balls of his feet digging into the metal platform he launches himself off of it like a deer, his path straight. He doesn’t pay attention to what the others are doing, but out of the corner of his eye he sees someone go down and doesn’t turn his head to see who it is, too scared to know if it is Clara or Elise.

Closing on the bag quickly he barely notices the flash of black to his right and only registers it as another person after the same bag as him when they collide over it, rolling several times in the grass. When they stop, Cas is crushed between the ground and the bag and other man combined, his weight squeezing the air out of Cas’s lungs. He stares up at the other mans face, and cold grey eyes stare down at him before a smirk raises his lips and his arm goes up, the blade of the knife glinting in the sun.

His mind screaming NO, Cas doesn’t even get the time to react or move before the other man is draped on him, his weight crushing his lungs even more, his shoulder pressing into Cas’s neck. He doesn’t know what has happened, but the other man is no longer moving and a trickle of warm fluid is running down his side.

Pushing and shoving he works his way out from under the other body, pulling the bag with him. He notices the arrow sticking out of the other man but knows he can’t dwell on it. Turning quickly he regains his stride and path and heads for the trees. Hearing heavy feet behind him he turns quickly and raises the bag in defense just in time to catch the knife. Gregory glares at him but stops his pursuit, his attention turned back to getting more supplies from the cornucopia before they are all gone. Cas knows he’s not giving up, just stopping for the time being, more pressing concerns and all that. He’ll be back on the hunt after him soon enough and this thought presses him forward fast. He has to find a hiding place and quickly.

Pushing his body as hard as he can without actually hurting himself he hurls himself through the trees for close to a mile before his burning legs and aching lungs force him to slow and then stop.

Collapsing to his knees he gulps in air for a few minutes, taking in his surroundings as he does. The trees are thick, the canopy above him a blanket. He could easily climb the trees and move between them if he wanted to, but he’s not entirely sure he’ll be the only one to do so. He wants something more secure.

Getting back up to his feet he starts walking again. He knows if nothing else he needs to find food and water and continue to get as far away from the starting point as possible.


	10. Day One

The sun is starting to set when Cas finally notices that he's still walking. He's had no real direction other than away from where he'd last seen the others. The skin on his face and legs stings in spots where an errant branch swatted him. His muscles are burning from use and there is a sheen of sweat on his body that is causing him to shiver in the rapidly cooling evening air. The terrain hasn't changed much, lots of trees and thick cover, but the scent of wet mud gets his attention at the same time the reddening sky does.

It's only day one but the run and the hours of walking have parched his throat and his lips are burning with dryness.

A slight trickling noise to his right turns his stride, and as the trees get thinner on the waters edge he can see a river rushing its way through the forest. On his side is heavy trees still, but on the opposite side a wall of white rock rises, at least 100 meters in his estimate. The wall is a straight vertical and carved from the ice millions of years ago. The pock marks he can see are too small to be used for concealing him. Grunting in frustration he goes to the waters edge.

In all the time of running and walking he hadn't stopped to see what was in his bag that he had almost died for. Unbuckling the top, the first thing he sees is a large water canteen with iodine drops tied to the side in a small bottle.

He then pulls rope, a bungee cord and a woollen blanket out. At the bottom is a small packet of saltines, the size usually issued with a bowl of soup in a restaurant. His stomach gives an aggravated growl at the sight of the food but he knows he needs to save them. He's no where near dying of starvation yet.

Filling the canteen and putting in the requisite drops he waits the recommended thirty seconds before gulping it down and refilling. He doesn't have unlimited iodine but water is something he can't not have.

After drinking three full canteens he fills it again and packs his bag back up. As he's about to close it he notices the knife still sticking out of the pocket at the front, right where it had landed.

Smiling softly to himself, he tucks it in his belt. At least he has a weapon now, not that he plans to use it.

Following the rivers edge is dangerous, leaving him somewhat exposed but he's hopeful of finding suitable cover in the rock wall on the other side.

The sky is purple when he finally sees it. A waterfall, heavy with icy water is tucked in between two parts of the white stone wall. Just behind the water, about two thirds of the way up he can see a hole, one that could be very useful to conceal himself as not many would notice it. If the moon hadn’t been glinting just right, he may not have noticed it. The climb was sure to be wet and difficult, but he was confident he could do it. He was still strong, now was a good time to find long term coverage. He knew he would have to come down at first light to find food, but for now, it was the best accommodations he could find.

Tucking the knife into his belt again after using it to hack some reeds out of the way, he makes his way towards it, and then wades into the icy water just to the left of the waterfall. The air of night was already proving much colder than it had been during the day, the blanket was going to be necessary, he just had to do his best not to soak most of his clothes.

It was not an easy climb, as he predicted. The wet stone combined with his frozen fingers made him wonder a few times if he could do it, but reaching the hole was the best feeling he could get considering the situation. It was small, not long enough for him to stretch out, but tall enough he could sit up, and he could easily see below him along the rivers edge for quite a distance without being spotted himself.

Pulling off his wet boots, socks and pants he lays them to the side to dry, quickly pulling the wool blanket from his bag, silently thanking whoever thought of using a waterproof bag.

His stomach gives another long growl, but the first cannon shot makes him forget his appetite immediately. Only now has he realized he hasn't heard it all day, a sure sign a lot of people had already died.

Counting along it finally stops at twelve. Half of the contestants are already gone. He listens intently for the names to be read out from hidden speakers in the trees.

The first is one of the trained fighters though not Gregory. The next is one of the younger and more frightened ones, and then the next and then the next. His head is pounding with fear as he strains to hear them over the gushing water but when the voice stops, neither Clara nor Elise were among the dead. His relief is palpable, but touched with the reminder that its only day one and if he was to win, they would have to die.

For now though, he allows himself the chance to relax, to know that they are still out there.

Exhaustion and hunger gripping him he curls on his side wrapped in the blanket and is asleep almost immediately.

 

* * *

 

The cannon fire wakes him suddenly. He doesn’t have a watch or any method of telling the time, but the full moon overhead illuminating the landscape below him tells him that it is still in the middle of the night.

Grappling with remembering his surroundings for a moment and then the sound that had shaken his slumber he tenses as he waits for the name to be read.

“Competitor Amriel has fallen, we honour his sacrifice.” The speaker booms over the sound of the wind pushing easily through the branches of the trees.

Exhaling the breath he was holding he relaxes back against the cave wall. The sound of breaking branches makes him tense again immediately. There are voices below him, but they are further down and the sound of the waterfall is masking what they are saying. He catches snippets, enough to tell him who it is.

“He’s definitely come this way, look, water source….” The voice gets lower, surprising considering it’s Gregory, and Castiel had thought him incapable of being anything less than loud. “…show up….. how the hell did he get that twelve anyway?”

The last question is shouted at full volume, clearly meant for Castiel to hear, though it’s also clear Gregory has no idea just how close his prey actually is. The movement of the moon in the sky as the night hours have passed has lessoned the glare into his hideout, giving him more coverage.

They come around the sharp corner of the river and he can see three of them, led clearly by Gregory. The other two are Leo and Oriel, both well trained fighters and ferocious in their own rights. Castiel isn’t surprised they have teamed up to hunt him down, though he wonders if they have fully thought through their plan, since if they succeed in hunting him and everyone else in the arena down they would be left to turn on each other. He realizes to them that doesn’t matter, they would have no problem turning on each other when it came time.

They continue up the waters edge, following the water source as he had and he freezes stock still in his cave, scared that even the most minutiae of movements might alert them to his presence and current hiding place.

But they never even look up; just continue walking and talking loudly, stopping only once to get water to drink and then carry on. He notes the weapons dangling from every part of them, arms, backs, legs, belts are all heavily loaded down with almost every type of weapon available. He notices in particular the long bow and pack of arrows attached to Oriel and feels a pang of desire. If he had those now, he could easily sit where he currently is and just pick the three of them off effortlessly, but then he remembers his vow not to shed blood and squashes the desire. He will let them carry on and not reveal himself or attack in any way. While he has a height advantage currently, he will need to come down to get food and he has to keep this cave a secret.

After what feels an eternity he can no longer hear their voices and he allows himself to relax back onto the stone floor with the wool blanket wrapped tightly around himself. It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet and already more than half are dead. The misery of this fact haunts him until he finally, mercifully falls back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. They watch all afternoon as Cas trudges one foot ahead of the other through the thick underbrush and trees. Cas remains a small picture in the bottom right corner for the majority of the day, which all things considered is a bit of good news, it means nothing exciting is happening around him or to him so they have no reason to focus on him.

Dean spots the cave even before Cas does and he’s yelling at the screen telling him where to look. Sam and Meg just leave him with it, choosing to hunt for the arena themselves, telling Dean it’s to give him a break, but it’s more because they can hardly bear to watch the on screen action themselves. Even Meg, demon that she is, has to walk away because she can’t even consider something happening to Cas.

They bring Dean food, which he doesn’t eat, and water, which he ignores. The only thing he notices is the whiskey, which is rapidly disappearing when Gregory and his friends start getting close to Cas’s lair in the rocks.

Terror rips through him as they saunter closer and closer and soon the picture becomes full screen as all the other competitors are currently sleeping. More importantly for those running the show, Cas is in danger, therefore it’s top priority. Dean sees the small movement in the shadows behind the waterfall, indicating Cas is awake and watching, but there isn’t any more after than point. Cas had become a statue to keep from being noticed and Dean can’t do anything but hope that they don’t see him.

Gregory would be incapable of climbing that high, but Oriel doesn’t even have to try, he has a bow and arrows, and could easily fire a well aimed shot straight at his prey.

Matew is beside himself as he talks over the picture.

“Castiel has to be careful here, it’s a full moon so it’s bright out this evening, any movement will surely be caught by the three on the ground.”

Dean mutters ‘no shit, Sherlock’ under his breath but he catches the slightly panicked tone in the announcer’s voice. Not for the first time since this had begun Dean wonders if the man is secretly rooting Cas on.

As they all pass by, stopping to get water on the way, Dean starts to relax slightly. They haven’t even looked up, yet alone noticed that there is someone else there with them.

With the immediate danger now passed, the focus moves on to Clara and Dean watches with some interest. He’s not sure, but it seems as though Cas has some sort of connection or friendship with the older woman. Seeing her always hurts his heart, she’s like a grandmother that he never had and he hates seeing her in this position.

The announcers are rattling on about her statistics, where she came from and how she ended up in this position and Dean listens more intently, wanting to learn more about this woman.

“Clara here has been on earth for about two years this time, making her the second longest earth bound angel in this year’s competition.”

“After Castiel of course,” pipes in Zeke.

“Yes, precisely,” says Matew, slightly annoyed at the interruption. “Another thing she has in common with Castiel is that she chose to participate in these games. While many do train to be fighters here, they are selected in the usual way and not given choice. Well, Castiel and Clara both were offered options and both chose this fate, how interesting.”

Zeke nods along, balls on his head bouncing with the movement.

“Turns out Clara has some information that was necessary to help her superiors and she refused to give it, saying it was too dangerous. Well those in charge of her garrison, they told her she either had to give up the information or she had to come fight in these games and you can clearly see what her choice was.”

Zeke nods again, pinched smile on his face.

Dean absorbs this new information, there was clearly more to Clara than he had ever considered. He was dying to know what the information was she refused to share, and doubted Cas would try to get it from her, even if he had known she was hiding something.

The announcers move on to the next competitor still alive, giving more background on them as well, but Dean isn’t as interested in them. He watches the tiny black dot that is Cas’s cave in the tiny picture they are giving of him and sighs softly. For now, Cas is safe, he’s well hidden, he has water and for the most part, this was the best things could be for the moment.

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, I’ll wake you if something happens.”  
Meg’s voice behind him makes him jump, but after a moment’s deliberation he nods and rises from the couch, the tiny woman quickly taking his place.

His nightmare this time is Cas, cowering in the back of a cave with Gregory fast approaching with a sword in his hand. He raises it, a snarl ripping from his throat and brings it down fast on Cas. Dean wakes up before he sees the blow, his heart pounding and his stomach churning.

He watches the sun rise yet again.


	11. Day Two

The sun streaks through the waterfall in the morning, casting a pale glow into the small carved hole. The sky is a deep blue, white puffy clouds meander through casting soft shadows on the trees below.

Watching the peaceful landscape come out of its slumber below him almost makes him forget why he's there in the first place, and the horror that has already taken place.

He'd managed to sleep the rest of the night, no more cannon fire or unwelcome visitors.

His back and neck hurt from the cramped quarters but he's willing to withstand that pain in order to avoid death.

Slipping from under his blanket he quickly finds his pants, ice cold but dry and gets dressed again.

Packing everything back into his bag, his stomach gives a low painful growl. As much as he'd rather not venture out into the open, he knows he doesn't have a choice, he needs to eat and relieve his bladder, the sound of the falling water does little to alleviate that issue.

Peering out over the ground he keeps his eyes steady for a few minutes, looking for signs of life on the ground below when a thought strikes him. Instead of going down, he should go up. Odds are, he's less likely to run into anyone on the terrain above him than below him.

Peering carefully out the side of his little hole he examines the potential above. The white rock is stained dark grey with water, but enough jagged pieces stick out that he thinks he can manage climbing up and back down when he returns.

He considers leaving his bag behind, but on the off chance he can't get back to this spot, he decides against it. He tucks the knife in his belt at his side and starts the climb. He's much closer to the top of the ridge than he is to the river below so it is a short climb and relatively easy with the trees perched along the top, their exposed roots acting as a rope to pull himself up.

Crouching behind some lower foliage, he watches for a few minutes, to be sure he's alone.

Eyes peer at him from across the river feeding the water fall. A young deer steps out, still eyeing him warily but reasonable sure of its safety for the moment. Other than that, it is still, the only sounds the wind gently pushing through the leaves in the trees and the water heading for its free fall off the ledge.

Moving slowly, he makes his way to the waters edge to refill his bottle. Then keeping to the shore he starts making his way further up the river, watching the area closely for any signs of edible plants. In terrains where there is absolutely no food source, it was not unusual for the games makers to actually plant food sources throughout the arena. These are almost always well disguised and in out of the way places so that only the most experienced or careful of competitors might find them.

When he happens upon a grouping of green leafy plants that are sitting in a mound of freshly turned dirt, he knows he's found one of the games makers creations. He's not sure what it is upon first inspection, the leaves are a dark green and tender and a careful taste of one reveals it to be slightly bitter, but not in an unenjoyable sort of way. It takes him a moment but suddenly it hits him what it is, Kale. He remembers Sam eating an abundance of it, proclaiming its health promoting qualities while Dean made disgusted faces and crammed another hamburger into his mouth.

Crouching down and plucking a few handfuls of the leaves he washes them in the water of the river and dries them on his pants before eating them. His hunger so strong it is a struggle to force himself to take the extra steps to make sure the food is clean first, but he knows he has to be somewhat careful, the last thing he needs to do is ingest something that makes him sick and weak.

The few handfuls he got are not enough to fully sate his hunger, but he doesn't want to entirely wipe the plants clean either, he'll have to eat again at some point. Packing more into his bag for later, in case he has to stay in the cave for a prolonged period he carefully makes his way a bit further up the waters edge, investigating more of the terrain.

He spends the majority of the day wandering, never straying too far from the river to keep his bearings, but using the relative quietness of the time and area to get more data on his surroundings. He comes across another planting of food in the late afternoon. A two foot by two foot square of carrots and potatoes. They are a good distance from his cave, so he quickly strips the small garden clean, happy to have something portable and less likely to spoil quickly.

He chews on a carrot thoughtfully as a makes his way back to his little cave. Mulling over questions of how long this entire thing might go on. In previous years there have been games that went on for months, and then some that only lasted days. Based on his experience on this day, he's assuming they are in for the long haul and hopes the carrot garden will get replenished at some point.

He's about twenty feet from the waterfall when a crack of branches just behind him gets his attention.

Slipping the knife from his belt quickly and turning slowly, he scans the land and trees behind him for the source of the sound.

At first he doesn't see anything, just tall dark tree trunks and endless seas of green leaves and plant life, but a subtle movement behind one of the trees and a large fern pulls his eyes back.

James slowly steps out from behind the tree, knowing he's been spotted. He raises his hands slowly, showing them to be empty, his face is panicked, not even remotely aggressive.

"Castiel, please, I don't want to hurt you, I'm just trying to find food."

James's eyes twitch back and forth between Castiels eyes and the knife in his hand.

Cas realizes he's pointing the knife at James and lowers it, but doesn't put it back in his belt yet, still unsure of the other mans motives and if he's being played.

"I guess I'm not the only one who knows how to climb," Cas says in an offhand manner. He's curious if there are other ways to reach this area, that maybe it isn't as secure as he thought.

James relaxes slightly when the knife lowers, his hands lower as well, though his face remains fearful.

"I didn't have much of a choice, Gregory chased me to the rock, going up was my only escape, he can't climb."

"I know, that's the same reason why I did."

"I promise you I mean you no harm Castiel, I just want to be on my way, if this is where you are staying, I'll avoid it."

The other mans eyes remain locked on Castiels, desperately trying to convey the truth of his words and Cas relaxes more. James is like him in so many ways, he doesn't want to hurt anyone, even though he clearly has the capability with his physical strength, but suddenly it makes sense why he got such a low number in the final test.

Castiel nods at him quickly, assenting to the arrangement. He's still relatively sure that his cave is a safe hideout, though he's not about to go towards it until he's sure James is out of sight range.

James watches him closely, realizing Castiels plan to stay put and slowly starts backing away.

In the last moments, when James is still in hearing range Castiel helps him.

"The games makers have been planting food up here in various places, you should find stuff soon enough."

James stops for a moment, surprised at the assistance but nods and turns finally, stalking off down the banks of the river.

Castiel knows that probably wasn't smart, he needs those food sources himself, but he can't bear not helping someone else in need. Especially since they aren't trying to hurt him.

The sky is turning a soft pink by the time he finally decides its safe to retreat to his hiding place without being seen. He would prefer to wait until after sunset, where the cloak of darkness would really give him cover, but it wouldn't be safe climbing on the rocks in blackness.

The climb down into his hole is easy and he quickly sets up camp again. He realizes he hasn't heard the cannon at all during the day, no one has died during the hours the sun was up. This is both good and bad. Good because Elise and Clara are still alive, bad because so is Gregory and so many others. He has a sense of some impatience for this all to over, but feels guilty for wanting so many dead just so he can go home to Dean.

Evening falls quickly, the birds going quiet in the trees and the bats start swirling in the sky. The stars look like a million pin prints in a black blanket that is lit from behind. He's never really studied the sky, always been a part of it in a way but never taken the time to truly appreciate the beauty there.

Sleep comes easy after another meal of kale and a potato. Tonight at least, he's not going to bed hungry.

 

*****

 

There is nothing quite so frustrating as watching someone you love do something dangerous and not being able to stop them or do anything about it.

Deans stomach is in knots as he watches the screen. The day had been quiet enough, Cas had gone for a wander, found some food and water, which helped Dean relax a little, since watching him starve to death might actually be worse that watching someone kill him. But that all changed when James started getting close to Castiel. The cameras had noticed this long before Cas had, or even James had for that matter. It had started down below the waterfall. James, desperate for food and water had been scrounging his way along the rivers edge when Gregory and his friends had come back down from the direction they had gone the night before. It was almost funny in a way, they had spent the night actually quite close to Cas's position without even knowing it. Gregory was obsessed with finding Cas, but he wasn't opposed to just taking everyone else out too.

So when they saw James, digging dandelions out of the dirt, they went after him.

James saw them just at the last minute and darted into the woods. Dean had thought his large size would slow him down, but he was wrong. He swiftly made his way to the rocks not far from the waterfall and scaled the height without difficulty. Dean was all at once terrified Gregory would spot Cas's cave and would lay in wait for him to come back, but he didnt, as focused on James as he was. He tried to climb the rocks too, but the face was straight up and he quickly tumbled back down again, landing on his ass.

The focus had moved then to Cas, walking back down towards his cave, seemingly unaware of what was going on ahead of him, and dramatic music had swelled in the background as the production crew and announcers awaited a big battle between Cas and James.

Up until that point, Cas had been the most boring one to watch, the only excitement coming when he put his pants on. Everyone else in the arena had faced some sort of danger at some point during the day or at least, seen some action. But not Cas, with his quiet hunting and gathering of food and hike in the woods.

The anticipation of this battle reached its fever pitch when Cas finally spotted James, pulling his knife and getting ready. But then it all shifted. The music went silent as they spoke and the disappointment from the announcers at finding out James was just going to walk away was dripping from their voices. But then Cas did something unexpected.

"The games makers have been planting food up here in various places, you should find stuff soon enough."

He helped James. Both announcers drew in shocked breathes, this was unheard of clearly and even Dean was perplexed.

Sam was the first to speak.

"What the hell is he doing? He needs that food for himself?"

"Maybe trying to get James on his side?" Meg pondered.

Dean knew the truth, could see it in Cas's eyes. This wasnt calculated, he was just trying to help because it was the right thing to do.

He didnt voice this to them though. It felt like a secret, something only he knew about Cas.

He watched as James walked away and then as Cas resumed his safe position in the rocks. He had made it through one full day. He just needed to make it through a few more.


	12. Day Three

A sharp scream piercing the air startles him awake. The sun is up, though the sky is grey and heavy with clouds. Over the waterfall he can hear the steady thrumming of rain hitting the trees.

Unsure if the scream was real or just in his dream, he listens carefully but hears nothing for a few minutes. Relaxing, his heart rate slowing again, he pulls a carrot from his bag and takes a long drink of water. He's happy he was smart enough to grab all the carrots and potatoes, as with the rain, he would rather stay inside his cave for the day if need be.

A second scream makes him jump, his head smacking the top of the cave and stars dance in front of his eyes. This time he knows he's not dreaming, eyes scanning the ground frantically he tries to find the source.

Elise comes running up the side of the river, her feet slipping awkwardly on the rocks and mud is smeared all over her, from head to toe. Her jacket is ripped and a part of her shirt has been torn away, exposing one of her breasts.

Vacillating on what to do, Castiel only watches as one of the trained competitors he recognizes at Leo comes peeling around after her. He remembers the guy as being with Gregory only two days before. He wonders for a moment how it is he is suddenly on his own, or if Gregory is just behind him in this pursuit.

Leo is also covered in mud, and angry as he races to catch up with Elise. It doesn't take him long, his anger making his steps more steady than her panicked ones.

Grabbing her hair he hauls her down at the side of the river, only a few feet from the base of the waterfall, close to Cas. Pinning her down on her back he straddles her hips and starts ripping at her jacket and top, gaping them open further, lust consuming his expression. Cas moves, thoughts of Gregory immediately forgotten as his feet and hands scrabble at the rock as he hurtles down the cliff face landing at the bottom with a dull thump before pulling the knife from his belt.

Elise spots him and her mouth opens in a silent scream, her eyes widen even further and the man on top of her turns to look the same direction. In that instant, Cas has the knife at his throat, holding his head back with his hair and glaring down into his eyes.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Panic slides across the other mans face for a moment as he realizes the danger he's in. But he quickly hides it, smirking slightly at Cas.

"Go on, do it. That's what we are here for right? To kill each other."

Cas knows the position he's in. He doesn't want to kill. Is adamant against it, but letting this man live would be monumentally stupid.

But he can't do it. Hate is coursing through his veins, killing this bastard who was fully intending to rape poor Elise would be doing the world a favour.

But he can't do it.

Pulling the other mans hair sharply, he yanks him off of Elise and throws him into the water.

Turning back to her for a moment, he only says one word, 'run' and she takes off immediately.

Turning back to the guy who is now sputtering in the water with laughter he glowers at him.

"Leave, now, before I change my mind."

Leo laughs a minute longer before sighing and standing up.

"You were never going to do it anyway, you're pathetic Castiel, I can't believe you led a mass group of angels into revolution," he laughs, "then again, look how that turned out."

Shaking his head one more time in pity at Cas he turns and walks away, spitting 'see you later' over his shoulder.

A well of fear pools in Cas's stomach. Now at least one of his enemies knows where he is. How long before this brute tells Gregory. In fact, he knows the only reason that he didn't try to kill Cas himself has to be because of Gregory.

Turning quickly he maneuvers his way back up to his hideout as fast as he can. Now he knows the games have really begun.


	13. Day Four

Leaving the cave becomes infinitely more treacherous now, though he's still reasonably sure Gregory would never be able to scale the rocks to the top. But the act of moving in and out makes him hyper aware of the possibility of eyes on him.

He only leaves once on the day of the incident, to relieve himself and check the kale crop.

What stands out most to him though is that they have now gone 36 hours without the cannon going off. This is almost unheard of and he knows the games makers will only let that stand for so long before they take action themselves.

Evening falls peacefully, the rain stops just as the sun starts to set, creating a brilliant red and pink sky over a sea of lush green leaves. It's stunning and he wishes he could appreciate it more, but he knows forever more this kind of sight will only remind him of this experience, it is forever ruined for him. Grief shadows him, to lose such a gift.

His attempts to sleep are futile, every sound, every scrabble of an animal in the trees, every shift of pebbles knocked loose by the water wakes him.

When dawn finally breaks, his head is pounding from exhaustion and from slamming it against the ceiling so many times during the night.

He waits until full light before venturing out, having watched the landscape closely for as long as he could hold out.

When he reaches the top of the waterfall, very little has changed, though fresh kale has been planted. He waffles for a moment, considering following his previous path to find the carrot and potato crop again, his supplies having dwindled to only two carrots and a single potato.

He assumes James is still up there, but keeping his distance and it is unlikely he will attack Castiel anyway, so he starts his march down the river bank. By early afternoon he finds the garden, refilled to the brim, as he hoped it would be but something starts to work itself in his mind, a niggling feeling that this was too easy this time.

As he is packing his bag with the fresh vegetables a sound catches his attention, a woosh of wind like an object hurdling through the air, and a knife lands hilt deep in a tree only ten feet from where he is crouched over the garden.

It's a setup, he knows it now, the games makers are bored. Another gush of wind and another knife hits a tree just beyond him.

Keeping close to the ground, his heart pounding in his throat he crawls to the trees, while trying to see the source of the knives.

Another flies by him, then another. There is no direct source point, they seem to be coming from all angles, as though the games makes have set up high powered knife guns high in the trees.

Trying to stay low he starts running through the trees back towards the waterfall. But almost immediately the number of flying knives picks up in the trees, forcing him back out to the river, back out to the open air.

Another woosh, and sharp pain breaks out on his arm, he can feel the warm dampness as the blood seeps into his shirt and jacket but can't stop to examine it.

The cannon sounds once, and then again and he realizes he's not the only target of this attack.

Still running bent over at the waist, he picks up speed. His bag is slowing him down, but he can't leave it, if he should make it out of this attack alive, he will need his supplies.

Still running he lowers it from his shoulders, hissing as the canvas strap runs across the cut on his arm, and is about to manoeuvre it so he is carrying it at his front as protection when he is thrown backward, stopping his progression entirely.

He feels heat, fire, deep in the left side of his abdomen, then the pain. Feeling with his hands before looking, he finds the handle of the knife sticking out of him.

Weakness all at once overtakes him and he falls to his knees. Looking down for the first time, he sees the knife is deep, the blood flowing from the wound is heavy. The humans have a term for an injury like this, mortally wounded.

Wrapping his right hand around the handle, he pulls it out, and more blood gushes down his pants and into the water, staining it red immediately.

"Son of a bitch"

It's the first thing that comes to his head, a curse often used by Dean.

He tosses the knife to the side, no point in keeping it as a weapon now, he won't need it.

The cannon fires again, once, twice, three times. He's lost count at how many are left now, but he knows it'll be firing for him soon too.

The grief is overwhelming, he won't get the chance to see Dean again, to apologize to him for failing, for not being what Dean needed him to be sooner, for all the mistakes he's made. He'll never get to know what they could have been, a sob chokes his throat, fighting for escape.

His body is starting to feel colder now, blackness tingeing the edges of his vision. He hopes James survives this, since he's the other one up here on this strip of land. He hopes James finds him in time to have his bag of supplies to help him.

Just to be sure, he shrugs the bag off the rest of the way, using his good arm he tosses it as far as he can into the trees, so when his body is collected, the bag will hopefully remain hidden.

Collapsing down onto his ass and then onto his back he stares at the endless blue. The darkness takes over.

 

* * *

 

Deans feet are moving before he's consciously aware of wanting to go somewhere.

He grabs the car keys and barrels out the front door, tears streaming down his face.

He can hear Sam yelling his name, see Meg staring at him curiously at the front door, but he ignores them, throws baby into drive and guns it down the street, not caring if he alerts the neighbours or not.

He has no idea where he's going but he can't stay there, can't watch as the cockroaches come and collect Cas's body from the river.

He can't get the image of his eyes out of his mind, the blue of sky reflecting off of them making them almost iridescent.

He looked so peaceful but so sad, and Dean is compelled to find him, some way, some how, even if it means driving his car off a bridge to try to find him in heaven.

He can hear screaming, someone yelling _no_ over and over, and it takes him a moment to realize its him, his own voice. He keeps screaming, but it doesn't help.

The road runs out, a tall wood looms in front of him, promising to block his progress and he slams on the breaks.

Gripping the steering wheel hard, his knuckles white in the moonlight he sobs once, then again and then collapses into it.

He had known heartbreak over his life, known death far better than anyone should ever experience, but this was possibly the worst, because he couldn't stop it.

He doesn't even know where they will take him.


	14. Day Five

Fingers, he can feel them ghosting softly over his skin and through his hair. He can hear voices, soft as though he's listening through a thick wall. He wonders if he's in heaven. Had they let him in after all?

Then pain, sharp and immediate in his stomach, the fingers no longer soft and they work the area. More sharp pain in his left arm, throbbing dully, and sharp shards of pain in his back, rocks digging in where his body makes contact with the ground.

"Castiel?"

He knows the voice, but can't place it yet, his senses are overwhelmed with the pain, his brain keeps only giving snippets of memories. Knives, there were knives, why were there knives?

"Castiel? Can you hear us?" A different voice, there's more than one, this one is also familiar, he tries to find the face that matches from his muddied mind.

Fingers push on the painful area of his stomach again, and he groans low and weak in his chest, willing them to stop.

"Castiel, come on, we need you to wake up."

The first voice again, more insistent, and he has a face finally. Older woman, grey hair, mischievous sparkling eyes and a smile that will light up a room. Clara.

Cracking his eyes slowly the sunlight is all at once overwhelming and his eyes sting and tear.

A shadow goes over his face, and he tries again. The face of the other voice looks over him. Beautiful blue green almond eyes, full lips, a pretty face. Elise.

Her thin fingers are shielding his face from the sun, and she smiles when he makes eye contact with her.

"There you are, we were getting worried."

"I told you the stuff would work, why else would someone send it for him?"

He turns his head slightly, then stiffness in his neck making it a slow process. He finds Clara on his other side, smiling warmly.

"Hey you. How you feeling?"

"How in hell am I alive?" His voice is scratchy, almost unrecognizable to his own ears.

"Good question, I guess someone is rooting for you?"

This statement makes no sense to him, but the sound of approaching feet stops him from further questions as panic blooms through his chest. Both Clara and Elise turn quickly in the direction of the approach, apprehension in their features.

He knows all at once where he is, what happened and that approaching feet was probably bad.

"I... found this... I thought he might still need it."

The voice is James. Cas lifts his head slightly to see the larger man standing at his feet, holding his bag, still full of carrots and potatoes and his blanket and knife.

James shuffles from foot to foot for a moment uneasily before Elise stands up and gently takes it from him, a warm smile on her lips. Cas notices shes wearing a new jacket, not torn, then he notices that Clara is no longer wearing a jacket. He wonders how long the two of them have been working together.

"Thank you." He manages through his dry throat.

James nods once and turns around walking a few steps before turning back.

"Should I stay? Just in case you need help?"

He's moving side to side on his feet again, uneasy with the situation and Cas feels for him. There was never a more gentle soul than James he thinks, all he wants is to belong to a group, to not be alone.

Clara and Elise are staring at each other in consideration, weighing out the decision but Cas answers.

"Probably a good plan since I'm useless right now."

James nods, a tiny smile plays on his lips before he returns to the group.

Castiel decides its time to try sitting up. The foggy feeling in his head has retreated and the stones in his back are really starting to get uncomfortable. Lifting his head, he slides his right elbow under him and then his left, ignoring the throbbing burn in his bicep as he does and pushes.

He can see he is still near the river, though not in the water anymore. The sun glints off of the blades wedged into trees and stuck in the ground.

"Hey hey, slowly now, you've been out a good 24 hours, you need to take it easy."

Clara is soothing him, her hand on his good shoulder.

Startled he can’t believe the time that has passed. A whole day. He'd been out for a whole day. He would have been bleeding and growing weaker, how in the hell was he not dead?

Lifting his tattered and now dark red and brown shirt he examines the area where he was hit, and finds a 4 inch neat line of stitches crossing his stomach on the right.

"How?" He turns to Clara for answers, this doesn't make sense, they don't have medical supplies out here, that was sort of beside the point since they were expected too die. Unless...

The thought hits him just as Clara smirks and lifts up the little shiny grey umbrella.

A sponsor had sent supplies.

"What? How?" He asks again. Cas is perplexed, who in hell would pay to save him, and moreover, why had the games makers allowed it, he was their target.

"Dunno honey, all I know is after the knives stopped flying I found you and heard the pinging bell a few feet from you. There was a note, not sure what in hell it means, maybe you'll know better." She hands it to him, curiosity crossing her features.

He sits the rest of the way up, wobbling once but quickly braced by three sets of hands.

Its only three lines long, both cryptic and hard to understand for any one other than him.

_I would like my honey now._

_You have some very persuasive friends._

_You owe me big time._

He knows immediately, and his hand creeps quickly to the charm hanging from his neck before he realizes it.

Crowley.

The only one able to possibly make a difference for him. He hasn't a clue why the king of hell would help him, aside from possibly wanting to kill Cas himself, but Crowley was a showman, he liked entertainment, maybe he just wanted to see him suffer longer.

Frankly, he didn't care why or what possible outcome Crowley was hoping for, all that mattered was that he was still alive, he had help and friends, and he could still win this.

Though, as always, he reminds himself that winning is at the expense of these friends. These people who are clustered around him right now, concern and caring in their eyes. But they must know it too, he thinks, they must know the outcome of one of them winning, that the others will be lost.

They wait expectantly for a few moments to see if Cas will explain the note, but when its clear he’s not going to, he doesn't want to admit to there even being the possibility of an alliance between himself and Crowley to them, they all move to gather things up to find a camp for the night.

He longs to return to his cave, but it’s not large enough for all of them, and up high they are still reasonably safe from Gregory.

He walks with some help from James into the trees, to an area Clara found earlier with larger boulders creating a shelter on two sides with ferns and brush concealing the others.

They light a small fire and Cas threads potatoes onto sticks for roasting.

It becomes clear that Elise and Clara haven't been eating too well, having only just climbed the cliff hours prior to the knife attack.

James promises to show them the gardens the next day.

It isn't until they settle into sleep that it occurs to Cas. All the cannon blasts. He wonders aloud how many are left, and Clara answers him in the dark.

"Six, there are only six of us left. The four of us obviously, and Gregory and Oriel."

A shudder runs through him, not from the cold, but from the realization that his wish for things to move along more swiftly has come true, and its going to be at a huge cost to him.

 

* * *

 

The red taillights fade off into the distance and silence quickly fills the air as the motor disappears as well.

Sam turns and runs his hands through his hair, his face is pain stricken, though Meg is fairly sure he has no idea just how close Dean and Cas's relationship is. She figured it out years ago, revelled in teasing Cas by flirting, knowing full well he was in love with Dean.

A pain blossoms in her chest as she remembers him kissing her because of some stupid porn movie and him thinking it was the right thing to do.

Glancing back at the TV she can see him still on scream, body motionless on the ground, though his heart monitor is still registering a beat. Still alive then, but for how long.

She pulls out her phone, dances it between her hands weighing the options. Doing this will surely mean death raining down on her, and it may not even work, but somehow she knows Cas is worth it. Almost rolling her eyes in disgust at her human emotions she dials the number, knowing full well his highness is some where on earth and reachable by cell.

"My, my, my, what a surprise this is." His English accent flows into her ear, she knows the second he's there, can feel him standing behind her. She briefly remembers the moment outside of Madison Square Gardens, when Dean had suggested calling Crowley himself and how she had reacted to the idea. Strange how her opinion on the matter had changed.

Wordlessly she glances at him and walks into the house, gesturing at the TV, where Cas's still form remains front and centre.

"Yes I saw that, he really fucked up this time didn't he, and to think that bastard actually managed to get one over on me once, he doesn't seem too bright."

"Help him. I know you can, call in a favour or whatever, but help him.... Please."

She hears Sam come back into the room at her voice, he starts a little when he sees Crowley, his hands making fists at his side.

Crowleys eyebrows shoot up.

"He doesn't know you called me, this is all your idea then."

Humming once to himself in thought, he turns and sits on a wooden chair near the door. Crossing his arms over his chest he looks at them with some amusement.

"Say I do have a way of saving him, a few friends in right places as it were, what are you willing to give me in return."

She can feel Sam's eyes flicking between her and Crowley, a variety of emotions running across his features.

"What do you want?" Meg remains deadpan. She doesn’t want to show too much desperation, these negotiations are already going to be tricky enough.

"Hmm, well its no secret that I would prefer to kill the little feather assed bastard myself, but I'm guessing you won't accept that, no, besides it might be more fun to have him in my debt."

A swell of hope rises in her chest, he's focused on Cas, and he's clearly truly considering this idea.

"Right, here is what's on offer," he turns to Sam, "you stop all this closing the gates of hell business, and you" he turns back to Meg, his eyes dark and menacing, "you start doing what I want you to do."

She has no idea what that might be, but it doesn't involve death, which has to be a good thing. She turns to Sam, to see if he's on board, and he looks at her a moment, his hazel eyes full of questions.

"Meg, are you nuts?" He whispers to her. "We have no way of knowing if he will keep his word."

The growling British voice pipes up again.

"Tick tock, his heart is slowing down."

They both turn and stare at the screen quickly, and sure enough, Cas is weakening. She implores Sam wordlessly, trying to convince him that this is their only chance to save him.

Sam sighs and nods once.

"There see, he agrees and so do I, now please, hurry." She can't keep the panic out of her voice anymore, and Crowley’s eyebrow goes up again for a moment, but then he picks up his phone and dials.

"Horatio darling, I would like to sponsor one of your competitors, how does 1,000 souls to help Castiel sound?"

He hums a few times to the comments made on the other end of the line, throwing a glare at Meg at the end.

"Fine, 10,000 souls, but not one more and you better guarantee he survives this knife wound for that."

Both Meg and Sam hold their breath, terrified that it won't work, but then Crowley’s face relaxes a bit again, and he nods into the phone.

"Good, I will make payment as soon as, good to speak to you again old friend."

He rings off and smiles at them, smug that he is getting his way.

"I'll take that demon tablet off your hands now if you please."

She feels Sam tense up beside her. They both should have known Crowley would throw a curveball into this.

"The tablet wasn’t part of the deal Crowley, I said I would stop the trials and I will, that was the deal."

"You honestly expect me to just trust you will keep your word? Come now Sam, I know you and your Neanderthal brother better than that. I'll take Kevin too, since he's the one with the real knowledge."

Sam curses under his breath and Crowley picks up his phone again. "I can just as easily reverse what I just did." He waves it at them playfully, grinning.

"You can't just take Kevin, he's a human being but you can have all his notes, all his research."

Crowley holds up a finger.

"And the tablet."

Sam grumbles slightly in fury.

"Yes, fine, the tablet."

"Good," clapping his hands together he stands, "now who is going to take me to him, hmm?"

Meg has no idea where the kid or tablet are, that only leaves one of them. Sam knows it too, turns to her, tells her to find Dean and nods at Crowley.

"Don't worry, I'll return him to you, unharmed so long as he cooperates." And like that, a quick tap on the shoulder and they are gone.

She has no idea how to find Dean, and assumes he won't be answering his phone, but tries anyway. As she waits for him to answer she hears the faint pinging noise on the TV. She watches as the grey umbrella descends from the sky, landing a few feet from Cas. It's that moment she realizes he's unconscious and can't do anything to help himself.

Cursing, she realizes Dean’s answering machine has picked up.

"Dean get your ass back here." And she hangs up.

Flopping down on the couch in defeat she can only watch as Cas's still body lies on the side of the river, colouring the water red, while the help he so desperately needs lies so close.

The camera changes angles and Clara comes on screen.

Leaning forward she watches as the older woman heads towards the pinging sound. Meg has no idea how or when Clara ended up on the higher level with Cas, but she’s hoping the woman helps him instead of killing him right out.

Clara spots him once she comes out of the trees, her face turns panicked and she rushes to his side quickly.

Meg is gripping her knees so tightly, her knuckles are white.

"Please help him, please help him, don't kill him, please please don't kill him."

Clara puts her hands on the wound in his abdomen, applying pressure clearly and her eyes scan around for anything to help for a moment, until they finally rest of the umbrella.

She darts away from his side and grabs the package, bringing it back to him, ripping it open furiously as fast as she can.

"Clara?" Another female voice rings out.

Meg's heart stops in her throat, until Elise comes out of the trees warily, eyes watching the area for any possible threat.

"Elly, get over here, he needs help!"

Elise's eyes rest on Cas's pale face and she stumbles slightly forward before gaining control of her feet darting faster towards the waters edge.

Her hands flutter over Cas for a moment as she tries to figure out what to do first, then Clara shoves one of the gauze pads in her hand, ordering her to apply pressure.

Meg watches as Clara expertly cleans and goes over Cas's wound, it is becoming clear the woman has some medical knowledge, things she hasn't shared with the audience. She opens the wound even further to fix the damage deeper within before sewing him up entirely. Then she moves on to his arm.

When shes done she surveys him quietly, rinsing the blood from her hands in the river. Elise watches her anxiously for a moment before asking "will he be ok?"

Clara glances at her for a moment.

"Don't know, I fixed the damage, but he lost a lot of blood, he's gonna be weak, that's for sure, but he's breathing right now, lets just make sure he keeps doing so, help me move him."

The two women each take two limbs and slowly drag him further out of the water, before holding vigil over him for hours. Unsure of what else to do, Elise keeps brushing his hair back with her hand and washing his face with a dampened cloth. Clara continues to apply antibacterial gel to both wounds and check his pulse. Neither woman leaves him until he wakes up.

A third woman watches the entire night on TV, heart in her throat and body tense as a rail on the couch. She doesn't hear from Dean, doesn't expect to and she barely hears when Sam comes back, only glances his way once to take in his furrowed brow, frustration colouring his features.

He sits quietly next to her on the couch, not even asking about Dean himself and watches.

They wait until Cas finally opens his eyes. Then they call Dean.


	15. The Beginning of the End

His phone is still ringing. It woke him up an hour ago with its incessant noise but since it was in the front seat and he's in the back with an empty bottle of whiskey and one hell of a headache, he couldn't be bothered trying to find it, much less answer it. But now, an hour and what he estimates at 100 phone calls later, its getting pretty annoying.

He spent the hour watching the rain trickle down the rear window of the Impala. The inside of the car smelled musty, damp with a combination of body sweat and stale liquor. He knows he needs to at least crack open a window.

Pulling himself up into a sitting position, pausing only for a moment to swallow the threatening vomit back down, he hauls himself over the backrest into the front seat, opens his window and lets the rain spatter across his cheeks for a few minutes. Finally he picks his phone up.

78 missed calls the screen says and within moments, its ringing again, Sam blazing into his eyes making his head pound worse. He debates on answering, he knows his brother is concerned, but Sam has no idea just how much pain he is in because Sam doesn't know about him and Cas and the fact that he's in love with Cas. And frankly, he's not in the mood to have that particular conversation.

The ringing stops momentarily, then picks up again, this time Meg is calling, and he figures she will be easier to get rid of, she can tell Sam he's fine and then they'll leave him alone.

"What!" He barrels down the line. He expects her usual drawl, the 'good morning sunshine' she normally hits him with, even when its clear he hasn't slept and is in a terrible state.

She surprises him this time.

"Get back to the house now! He's alive Dean, we saved him!"

His heart skips a beat and his breathing picks up speed. It's not possible, he saw that knife wedge itself deeply into Cas's stomach, saw the blood colouring the water, there is no way he could have survived a wound like that out in the wild, not without medical intervention, even then, it was sketchy at best. She had to be lying, she was trying to trick him into coming back to the house, for Sam probably. Fury winds its way up his throat, making his voice a deeper growl than normal.

"Fuck you Meg, and you can tell my brother to go fuck himself and all, I'm not buying it, I know what I saw."

Suddenly Sam is talking, he realizes he's on speaker phone.

"Dean, stop, listen, we're not lying, we found a sponsor, we got him help, come home and we will explain and you can see for yourself."

There is one thing about Sam, Dean is an expert at knowing when he is lying or not, brotherly intuition or otherwise, but his voice always sounds different when he's telling the truth, it always rises a few octives.

Breathing hard, he tries to stop the wobble coming into his own voice. A mixture of panic and relief is welling in his chest. He can't fully relax until he sees it for himself, he knows that.

Putting the key in the ignition, he stammers, "I'm on my way" before disconnecting and hammering his foot on the gas.

It only takes him twenty minutes to get there, and he's grateful for the rainy weather, keeping most of the speeding patrols off the road.

Meg and Sam are standing at the door when he gets there, both watching him, though Sam with worry and Meg is grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He doesn't know what to make of that.

They wait until he's almost at the front door before they both start talking simultaneously.

"Dean, where have you been, we've been calling...." Comes Sam.

"He's ok Dean, look, we helped him..." Says Meg.

He ignores them both, pushing his way through the door to the TV. Before he says anything, before he can take a moment or even breathe, he has to see.

Sure enough, Cas is sitting in a small huddle with James, Elise and Clara, chewing on a carrot slowly. His face is frighteningly pale, he's lost a lot of blood, and he looks tired and is clearly weak, the way he is leaning on the rocks, but he is smiling slightly, listening to Clara tell one of her stories and most of all, he's alive.

Exhaling sharply and landing on his knees in front of the TV, he can't help the sob that creeps up his throat. The relief is overwhelming, Cas is alive, he's right there, he could still come home to him and Dean would very much be in his happy element nursing him back to health.

"How?" Is all he manages to choke out, eyes still fixed on the figure on the screen.

Neither Meg or Sam answers him at first and the silence gets uncomfortable. Curiosity now taking hold, he looks at them to see why they aren't answering and finds two very sheepish looking beings.

"How?" He asks a little more insistently. Meg breaks first.

"Don't be mad,"

This didnt sound good, though frankly, he wouldn't care if they had let Lucifer out of his cage at this point, so long as Cas was alive, but he was starting to wonder if it really was as bad as that.

Fixing his eyes on Sam he watches as his younger brother shrinks down under the attention. It wasn't good.

"Meg, tell me." He knew she was the one who was going to talk at this point.

"I called Crowley." She states clearly, holding his gaze now, defiance now showing in her features.

He's not mad, frankly he's confused.

"You're going to have to elaborate a bit more than that."

Sighing deeply she walks over to the couch and flops down.

Dean realizes he's still on his knees in front of the TV, they are starting to ache on the hard floor, so he stands up and joins her on the old yellow and tattered furniture, wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve as he does so.

"I called Crowley, because I knew there was a chance he would know someone who would sponsor Cas, for the right price."

"The right price," Dean dumbly repeats her, then the meaning of the words sets in.

"Wait, what price? What was the cost." He's surprised at the lack of anger in his voice, he's just curious, and both Sam and Meg seem surprised hes not angry too, though Meg less than Sam. Her mouth quirks up for a moment in a smirk before Sam fills in the blanks.

"The demon tablet, all of Kevin's research and our quest to close the gates of hell. All of it is gone."

Nodding slowly he absorbs this. Truthfully, all things considered, it actually wasn't so bad. Crowley could have asked for so much worse, but he didn't, though that wasn't to say he might later on, but hopefully Dean would have Cas back by then, they could handle it together.

"What about Kevin?"

"He's still in the bunker, pretty pissed off after he's done so much work, and he really didnt trust that Crowley would do as promised, but as you can see, for once, he held up his word."

"For now at least," Dean sighs.

"For now is all we need," chimes in Meg, "he's alive, and there are only six left in the arena Dean, three of which have no intention of killing him and the other two can't get near him. He's got the best shot at winning now and getting him back, that's what matters right, all the other shit, we will deal with later."

He's a little surprised at the force of Meg's words, he knew that she cared at least a little about Cas, her flirtatiousness with him was a good clue, but at the same time, she's a demon, she shouldn't care this much.

As if reading his mind, she answers his questions.

"Yeah I know, I'm a demon, I shouldn't care, but I guess you two numb nuts have worn off on me." The drawl is back and its almost a relief to hear it.

"If these three won't kill him, and we all know Cas won't kill them, how is there going to be only one left to win?"

"I have a theory," says Sam. "I think the three of them have every intention on protecting Cas until its only the four of them left, then they are going to sacrifice themselves for him, so he wins." Getting really into his theory, Sam starts pacing behind the couch. "Here's the thing, ever since the parade, I have been thinking about what Cas's change in mood meant, why he suddenly got panicked, and my thinking is, he figured out he's the direct target in this years games, they have been built entirely around him. Think about it, the outfit and car he was in for the parade, the way the audience actually seems to love him and be supporting him, I think those that want him stopped are in the minority but they have all the power. These three and so many others want him to win because they want him to stop them, to keep fighting for the cause and I don't think Naomi is the top echelon here either."

Dean mulls this all over in his head for a few minutes, when something strikes him.

"It's not just been all about him, the car, the outfit so much has been a nod at us too Sam. I think they know I'm watching, and are doing this to antagonize me, and following the idea that it's about you and me as well, the location of the arena has to be significant."

Sam's eyes light up at this, realizing Dean is right.

"Holy shit they're in Kansas."

"Where in Kansas though," asks Meg, "have you been to any big parks or places like that before?" She gestures at the screen.

Wracking his brain he hunts for any memories of seeing anything like it. When he and Bobby spent time together, it was in Sioux Falls, not Kansas and it doesn't seem familiar to those memories. Then he has one small one, a memory from before the fire. His dad had taken him fishing, a 'boys weekend' he had called it, though it had only been one afternoon. It was two weeks before the fire, before their lives changed forever.

"Perry Lake, it's right near Lawrence, that's where he is."

Sam immediately grabs the laptop and starts searching for it.

"Yeah, this is definitely it," he turns the screen towards them, showing a picture of beautiful lush trees and walls of white rock.

"Let's get going then."

"I wouldn't if I were you." The deep gravelly voice with the unmistakable British accent startles all of them.

"Crowley?" Dean says, shock running through his veins, he jumps up off the couch.

"You are correct, congrats on having a brain Dean, they are in Perry Lake, but you have no chance of getting in there. Do you know how heavily guarded that place is right now?"

Sam taps at the computer again. "Says here the park is closed because of storm damage, troopers are guarding the perimeter for public safety." Slamming the computer shut in frustration he stalks around to stand next to Dean.

"What do we do then?" Dean asks, voice trembling as he realizes the first real hope of rescuing Cas is gone.

"You wait, hope that dumbass there stays alive and wins and then you go get him at the victory ceremony."

"And where will that be?"

"Same place the parade was." Crowley smiles.

"Wait, if we can't get into the park, how in hell are we getting into that ceremony."

"Easy, your little escapade to save him has started to amuse me, and also, if he wins, he can stop those feathery assholes who keep pestering me. I will provide a distraction for you, in the form of a small army of demons, you run in, save your true love and it will be all roses and champagne."

Dean feels some heat creep into his cheeks as Crowley looks him straight in the eye as he calls Cas his true love. In the periphery of his vision, he sees Sam’s head snap up and his eyes widen and travel to Dean. Clearly, while a very intelligent guy, Sam had only started to figure things out now, at the most inopportune moment possible. He's grateful when Meg speaks up and moves the conversation along and back on topic.

"Hold up Crowley, why are you doing this? We all know it's not just for your amusement." She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the demon king hard.

Crowley returns her stare unflinchingly, clearly unwilling to show his whole hand.

"Well, it is amusing, but yes, I guess I'm sort of hoping he'll have some information for me when he gets out of there."

"What? What information?" Sam is still flustered from the discovery he just found out moments before, he doesn't see what Crowley means, but Dean does. He remembers only a few days prior, when the announcers were discussing all of the different competitors during a quiet time in the arena and how Clara was there because she refused to give up information.

"You think Clara talked to him."

Crowley shrugs nonchalantly, brushes a chair off before sitting down and continuing to stare at them with a blank expression.

For Dean, that's as close to an acknowledgement of the accuracy of his words as he's ever seen.

"First, what do you think she knows, that you are willing to do so much to get? And secondly, why the hell do you think she would have told Cas anything, considering she willingly signed up to be slaughtered to protect the very tidbit you are after?"

Crowley shrugs again.

"Of course I have no idea of knowing if she told him or not until he gets out, but I'm willing to bet she'll make a deathbed confession."

Meg sits down on the couch, frowning in thought. "Wait, why not rescue her then, if its her information you are after?"

Dean's body tenses and he feels a cold chill spread through him, Meg is right, why rescue Cas when Clara is who he is after. He's suddenly terrified Crowley will see the sense of this suggestion and stop helping Cas.

"Easy my pet, he is now in my debt, meaning he is more likely to squawk than she is, since she owes me nothing."

Dean feels relief rush through him, though he knows Cas is about as likely to talk as the chair Crowley is sitting on, but at least right now, Crowley doesn't know that and is still willing to save him.

"Besides, look at how happy I'm making Dean right now."

This comment catches him off guard and he realizes he's smiling a little too widely, as caught up in his relief as he is. Sam is staring at him wide eyed again, while Meg just smirks once and turns back to Crowley while Dean tries to rearrange his face back to normal and avoid making eye contact with Sam.

"Right, so we wait until Cas makes it out alive and you are going to help us save him at the victory ceremony, is that right?" Meg's drawl is back in full force. "How the hell can we guarantee he's even going to win? He's hurt, he can't fight if it comes to it."

Crowley smiles, his dark eyes glinting in the faint light from the TV, where the group of four still sits, congenially chatting and warming themselves by the fire.

"Well in my experience, the plucky little angel is pretty tough to kill, but nonetheless, Sam here is right, the other three will undoubtedly sacrifice themselves for him, which is all so sickeningly sweet I could barf."

"But why though," implores Sam, "why are they protecting him, what is it they think he's going to do if he wins?"

Another smile from Crowley.

"Oddly enough, it's related to the information I need from the old woman there." The screen changes focus suddenly and Oriel comes on, he's in the midst of scaling the cliff, bow and arrow slung over his shoulder and Gregory urging him on from the ground.

"Well, well, things are picking up again, with that I'll leave you."

Before any of them can ask more questions he's gone, though they are all so riveted on the action on the screen, their questions were already forgotten.

 

***

 

"I never thought something as simple as a potato roasted over a fire could be so wonderful," says Elise. She licks her fingers of the final crumbs, savouring every bite.

"Yeah I was getting pretty concerned about the whole food situation myself," adds Clara, winking at Cas. "Good thing you found this area."

The fire crackles softly in the middle of their circle, the heat is just as delicious as the food, they all have their boots off warming their toes as close as possible without their socks catching on fire.

Cas feels a tiny bit better, slightly stronger with food in his belly. Clara had insisted he eat all the kale since he needed the iron after his heavy blood loss. It was so easy to forget where they were for extended periods of time through the day, their companionship was so easy.

James had talked of his time when he was part of a garrison, and it turns out he briefly served under Castiel in his.

He notices over the day, as they all share with each other that Clara is the least open about her past and he wonders on it, but decides not to push her. Their situation is unique, and he understands she may not want to grow too attached, though she is openly affectionate with them all, cradling Cas in her arms when he grows tired and weak.

Elise and James are asking him about purgatory when they hear it, the distinct crack of a branch under a foot.

They all freeze in place, only their eyes move as they scan the scenery for the source of the sound.

The sun had set about an hour prior, the low hanging clouds obscuring any glow from the moon leaving their fire as the only source of light.

James stands suddenly and grabs one of the knives he collected through the day, his eyes continue to scan the trees, and after a few minutes he shrugs.

"Must have been an animal of some kind."

They all start to relax and then suddenly James is on his back on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his chest, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth.

They freeze for a mere second before all jumping into action. Cas follows Clara on his hands and knees over to where James lays on the ground.

His eyes are open wide in shock, his breathing fast and a faint gurgling noise can be heard from his throat.

"Clara, what do we do, tell me how to help you!" Cas is desperate, he's not ready for this part yet, the part when his friends start dying, he knew it was coming, thought he was prepared, but now that it is happening he is petrified and overwhelmed with the need to fix it, to save James like Clara saved him. It's only moments later that he realizes that arrow came from a source, one that will likely keep shooting, he has to stop them.

"Elise, help Clara, and stay down as close to the ground as you can!"

The younger woman crawls over, tears streaming down her cheeks and cradles James' head in her hands.

Cas takes the knife from his hand, and grabs two more, slotting them in his belt before throwing dirt on the fire to extinguish it and provide them some cover.

Moving as silently as he can he goes from tree to tree towards the direction the arrow came from. Crackling of branches to his right stops him, and he can just make out Oriels pale face only two trees from him. The man is watching Clara and Elise tend to James, clearly he didn't see the direction Cas went, but his head is swivelling fast looking for him, panic now on his features. Cas remembers he got a twelve in the final test, and can't help but wonder if that is weighing on the other mans mind at that moment.

Slinking quickly and as quietly as possible Cas moves one tree closer, knife in his hand ready. He doesn't have time to remember his vow not to kill, but he hears Gartens voice in his head, telling him he would kill, he wouldn't have a choice, and the words now ring true.

Oriel hears the movement beside him and ducks behind his own tree.

Now it is a standoff, a question of who will move first. Cas has the upper hand with their close proximity in that it will be more difficult for oriel to shoot an arrow accurately so close. But with only knives, Cas will either have to get close to make a move, or hope he is accurate in throwing one.

"So this is it Castiel. You and me, who makes it out alive eh?" Oriels voice is deep, gruff, but with melody, he sounds older than his years.

"We have another option, we both walk away alive." Cas throws back. It's a lie, this man shot James, he will have to seek revenge, can taste it in his mouth as a bitter need, but he wants to make him believe. He feels disgusted with himself that he's willing to use such tactics, to lie and make the other man comfortable only to attack from behind like a coward, but he has no choice. He is weak, injured and if it becomes hand to hand combat, he will most definitely lose and there is no way he's giving up now.

"Is that so? We can just drop our weapons and walk away, is that it?"

Despite the attempts at grandeur, Oriels voice wobbles, he doesn't want to go up against Castiel, that much is clear.

"Yes, I'll even do it first." In an effort to possibly convince the other man of the plan, Cas drops the knife on the ground a few feet away. Even if Oriel doesn't buy it, he has no idea Cas has other knives and may take the chance to attack full on now that he thinks Cas is unarmed.

Oriel laughs quickly, with no humour.

"Do you have a death wish man? What are you doing?"

"What I said I would do, I don't want to kill you, and I don't think you want to kill me."

A shuffle of leaves under foot, and Cas waits to see what he'll do. A few more twigs snap and he knows Oriel is trying to sneak up on him. Readying another knife in his hand, he senses the approach from his left and braces for action. Just then the clouds break, the moon illuminates the land in a soft white glow, making the shadows of the trees look like creatures staring them down.

Just as the hand barely touches his left arm he dives right around the tree, planting the knife deep between Oriels shoulder blades. He screams and drops forward into the leaves and ferns. Cas feels like vomiting.

Oriel squirms on the ground, trying to reach the knife to pull it free, but only succeeds in creating more damage until he collapses fully, his breathing only a soft pant until that too stops.

The cannon fires.

He can't hold it any longer, stumbling forward and away from the body on the ground he throws up next to a tree. His body is shaking, with shame, and fury, and relief.

"Cas?" Elise calls his name, he can hear her coming towards him and he rights himself, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and moving to greet her so she won't have to see what he's done.

"Cas?" her voice is panicked, they don't know who the cannon was for.

"Elise, I'm here."

As soon as she sees him she hurdles herself towards him, gripping him tight in an embrace. Her body is thin, bony even after only these few days, but her relief that he is alive is palpable. He gently extracts her, looks her sadly in the eyes, and she understands immediately.

"How's James?"

He can see the tears immediately start dropping, and he knows, James is gone, or soon to be gone.

He turns to go see the larger man, to try to help as best he can when something stops him, he remembers something that he wants to go back for.

"Go help Clara, I'll be right there."

She looks at him confused, but nods after a moment and heads back towards camp.

This wasn't going to be easy, the last thing he wanted to do was look at the body again, but Oriel had something he wanted, needed in fact and he had to get it before the body snatchers came.

Creeping through the trees he spots the limp form on the ground and what he wanted only a few feet away on the ground.

Moving as fast a possible to get it over with he jogs through the leaves and grabs the bow first, slinging it over his shoulder and then grabs the bag of arrows.

His vow now broken, he might as well be prepared, Gregory is still around after all.

Hurrying back to camp, Clara's eyebrows rise when she spots the new weapon on his body, but she says nothing. James' laboured breathing fills the night, and Cas kneels next to him, gripping his hand and looking in his eyes, trying to convey comfort in any way he can. He glances as Clara, who has the medical supplies but has clearly determined the wound is too great for her to be of any assistance, and his heart breaks more. Somehow she had saved him, somehow help had arrived for him, why not for James?

"Cas...." James voice is weak, he has to lean down close to the stricken man to hear him properly.

"Cas, promise me you'll end this? Promise me you will take them down like we all believe you will." Another laboured breath, its getting harder for him to breathe now. "Do not be sad for me my friend, I knew I would die, I was determined I would do so serving and protecting you, the one who will save us all, so you must promise me you will!"

Cas is dumbstruck, while he had figured out that those who want to kill him were the minority, he had no idea that those in the majority saw him as their hero.

He wants to ask more, to tell James he is planning to stay human and he doesn't know what to do, but the other mans condition is quickly worsening, he decides against it, he wants James to die peaceful, knowing he fulfilled what he intended to do.

"I promise, I will end their brutality and free us all." It's not until he says it out loud, he realizes how much he means it. He still doesn't know how but he will figure it out somehow, he has to.

James smiles softly at him, the blood on his lips bubbling slightly with the air and then he stops breathing, his face slackens and the cannon goes off again.


	16. Last Survivor

Morning comes quietly, the passing of the rest of the night only broken by the loud speaker announcement of who had died and the helicopter retrieving bodies. Gregory knew that Oriel was dead, and also that Cas was still alive, and they all knew it wouldn't be long before he was going to find a way up the cliff to get to them.

Elise gathers water and more kale in the morning, thought none of them are hungry they force themselves to eat.

A fall thunderstorm rolls in in the early afternoon, soaking their campsite and changing the colour of the sky to a dark cold grey.

The body snatchers had come and got James a half hour after he died, the helicopter wings beat the night air like a drum, as though a stealthy beast with two wide eyes was peering down on them. They had all stayed huddled around him until the angels who dropped to the ground to secure him in a bag forced them back, Elise taking a ring from his finger first. Cas had watched her slip it onto her thumb, but said nothing.

As he watched the rain batter down on the river, creating a sea of splattering drops, he wondered who would be next. There were only four left and it was an impossible task to consider how this might end.

Wanting Gregory to be next was obvious, but that meant it would leave only himself and the two women left, and who would be the one to die next from that group.

As evening falls the storms clears, leaving the sky glowing a vibrant orange and the scent of freshly dampened earth in the air.

They clear the waterproof bag off the fire pit and gather some mostly dry wood and start another fire.

The crackling sound of the loudspeaker catches them all off guard.

"Attention competitors, since you are all in such close proximity, we would like to stop actions for a moment and ask you all to step out to the rivers edge please."

Their eyes wide they stare at each other a moment before all standing slowly and moving towards the water. Cas stops and grabs the bow and arrow just in case before following the two women.

Gregory steps out of the trees on the opposite side, his eyes wide in surprise as well. His shirt is torn and there is a large gash on his face, and Cas isn't that surprised to see him up there, but not overly pleased to either.

"Good. Please note that this is a break in the battle, so please do not aim your weapons at each other at this time, we will return to things momentarily, but first, we have decided to add a twist to this years games."

Cas's heart sinks, he had a bad feeling about this, the games makers want him dead and he can only assume this little twist is going to be the barrel of a gun pointing right at him.

"The twist ladies and gentlemen is a Mercy Vote. We will select one name at random and that person will be given the incredible honour of choosing one of the remaining competitors to leave the competition right now to stay alive, thereby saving their lives and giving them mercy."

Horror trickles through his veins, they were allowing one of them to decide who was worthy of surviving.

"Now there is only two rules for this new twist, first, the person who's name is drawn cannot select themselves to save, and secondly, they must choose someone, they cannot back out."

Cas knows already, he will have to pick someone, they are making him choose between Elise and Clara.

"Now without further ado, I'll reach my hand into the barrel with your names in it and select one at random."

He hears Clara mutter 'random my ass' beside him and he knows she's just as suspicious as him.

"The name is...." They hear some rustling, as though they are trying their best to make this believable to the audience and then "CASTIEL!"

Cas closes his eyes and starts thinking, the decision is impossible but he has no choice. He could choose Clara, shes been his friend this entire time, and somehow he wants her as his ally if he makes it out of this hell. But Elise is so innocent, and young and even with his eyes closed he can see her beautiful blue green eyes as she looked at him the day of the testing. The other option is Gregory, to really surprise them, but then that leaves only Clara, Elise and himself left, and two have to die, but was he really considering Gregory as disposable? His hands fisted at his sides he swallows hard and tries to think of what Dean would do in this situation, who he would choose.

He feels Clara nudge him and realizes the announcer is urging him to hurry up and decide. She pulls him towards her into an embrace, as though urging him to choose her, but she's in his ear suddenly, whispering.

"Cas, do not pick me, they want you to pick me because I have something they want and I would rather die than give it to them, that's why I'm here, and for Gods sake, do not pick Gregory to annoy them, it's not worth it."

He stares into her eyes as she backs up. It's only taken her a few seconds to get those words in his ear and she's done it in such a way as neither of the others standing nearby has gotten suspicious. Elise steps forward and hugs Clara as well, making it look like his decision was made.

The voice on the loudspeaker is now barking at him.

"Castiel, we demand you make your choice immediately, if it is Clara, we ask that you state her name so she step forward to accept her ride."

The dull thrum of the helicopter blades starts getting closer and he looks at Clara again. As subtly as possible she shakes her head at him once and his throat closes in sorrow. She's asking him to let her die.

"Castiel! We need you to say her name."

Elise stands next to Clara looking down, accepting her own death, thinking that he has chosen Clara as well.

Cas clears his throat, finds his voice finally.

"Elise. I choose Elise."

Her head snaps up and her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

He watches Clara though, sees her exhale a sigh of relief and he hears the announcer stuttering slightly as he asks Cas to be sure of his decision, as though they werent just pushing him to hurry up a few seconds earlier.

"Yes, I am certain, I choose Elise."

Elise stares at him a few moments longer, the helicopter now overhead and a rope ladder coming down. She looks back at them for a moment before stumbling forward and throwing herself into his arms, gripping him so tight it pushes the air from his lungs.

"Thank you, thank you Castiel, I will always serve your cause, and have your back."

"If you have made your choice then, Elise please make your exit." The voice now sounds annoyed and defeated, clearly perturbed at Cas's choice but not able to do anything to change it without showing their true purposes.

He watches her as she walks towards the waiting helicopter. She stops for a moment before boarding, staring at him with watery grateful eyes, a humble smile on her lips and for a moment he wonders if he hasn't in fact just signed her death warrant. There is no way to know for sure how she will be treated once shes out of this wilderness. He considers that if she does die by their hands, at least the blood will no longer be on his hands, she'll die knowing he was attempting to save her and he feels a wash of guilt and shame flow over him. As much as his gut is telling him otherwise, he has to believe they will uphold their word, they will grant her mercy, allow her to live and rejoin the ranks, their humanity can't be that far gone. But then again, they aren't human, angels by nature aren't supposed to consider such things, do they even know what they are doing is wrong? He hopes so, he discovered his own humanity, but he's not sure of any of those who are running this show.

He's not watching Clara, or Gregory, and he knows too late that he should have been. The moment the helicopter is gone and the bell rings to restart proceedings, the larger man is barreling across the water, knife in hand and he gets to Clara first.

Cas doesn't even think, pulling the bow down from his shoulder and grabbing an arrow and firing at Gregory, all within seconds. He hits his shoulder making the other man scream in pain and dart to the side. He sees Clara fall from his hands, the knife wedged under her ribs, her face ashen.

Rushing forward he catches her just before she hits the ground, Gregory stands off to the side, attempting to pull the arrow from his shoulder and smirking at Cas.

This is it then, he thinks, the final stand, one of us is about to win and its not going to be Clara. Despite knowing this, he tries to deny it in his mind, and with his mouth.

She looks up at him and smiles, despite her obvious pain.

"Clara, please, hang on, I can fix this, let me get you back to camp."

"Cas, darling, stop," she puts a hand on his cheek. Her fingers are icy, but the touch is firm, enough to silence him. "I need you to know something, why I'm here," she takes a laboured breath, quickly losing her strength but she pushes on and he waits, knowing this is important to her. "Castiel, I used to be Metatrons assistant, I helped him with his duties, was a faithful friend at his side and I know things that he doesn't want anyone else finding out. You see Castiel, Naomi, the games makers, they are not the ones in charge, it is Metatron himself and he wants to cast all of the angels out of heaven, he wants full control and he needs the angel tablet to do it, but I hid it from him, so he couldn't follow through with his plan. You need to stop him Cas, you have to, you're our only hope. Lean down closer."

Bristling with shock he does as she asks, out of the periphery of his eye he can see Gregory standing close, looking just as stunned by her admission.

Whispering softly in his ear, she tells him where she hid the tablet, in one of Lucifers crypts, and that Lucifer himself knows where it is, but with him in the cage, she thought it would be safe. She knows that no doubt some demons know the location and she wants Cas to go retrieve it, find a new hiding spot for it, to keeping it out the wrong hands, both angel and demon.

Once finished she pushes his face back a bit, enough to stare deep in his eyes, her own watery with brimming tears.

"Stop beating yourself up Castiel, what you did was necessary, you had the right idea kid, you did, and now's your chance to save us all. I love you dear Castiel, you are good."

He can't stop his own tears from trickling down his cheeks, his throat closing in agony as he watches her rapidly weaken.

"I love you too Clara, I will not let you down, I promise."

He almost growls his pledge, the ferocity of his meaning pushing through his teeth.

She nods once and smiles.

"Get home to Dean, I hope I see you again some day."

One final small smile and she slackens in his arms, her eyes lose focus and her last shaky breath leaves her body and Cas sobs once and then again, gripping her tightly.

The cannon fires and the sound of it echoes through his head.

He hears gravel shuffle nearby and knows that Gregory is waiting, and suddenly he's angry, vicious and vengeful. Laying Clara gently on the ground and closing her eyes, he kisses her forehead once, whispers goodbye and stands up to meet his enemy.

While Gregory may have been surprised about Clara's admission, he's still blood thirsty and he smirks at Cas as they stare each other down. He's pulled the arrow from his shoulder, the blood running in a line down his arm, but he seem barely phased by it now.

His fury reaching its boiling point, Cas barrels towards him and shoulders right into his chest, knocking the man backwards but not down. Cas feels the burn as the knife in Gregory's hand impales his arm, just below the wound Clara had stitched up, but he can't think about it. Gregory brings a fist up and gets the bottom of Cas's chin, sending him backwards into the waters edge and making stars dance in front of his eyes.

The larger man moves swiftly to leap onto Cas, attempting to pin him down, but Cas gets a well placed knee in the way, bringing out a yelp of pain and they roll over further into the water. It's not deep enough yet for him to hold Gregory's head under the water, so instead he settles for a few good punches to the head to try to slow him down.

The knife comes up again and hits Cas's shoulder, almost disabling his left arm entirely, and at the same time he gets his right hand around Gregory's throat and pushes hard. The larger man grips his wrist and fights against the closing of his wind pipe, thrashing wildly before sending Cas onto a long smooth section of stone. Cas gets on his feet fast, knowing being down will make him more vulnerable. As soon as he's up, something heavy hits him in the middle of his chest and he's on his back sliding down the rock so fast he can barely process it. The blood from the wound in his shoulder making the surface slippery, he struggles to get back up and his right hand hits something in the shallow water beside him, hidden amongst the stones. He recognizes it immediately as the handle of a knife, one of the many thrown into the ring by the games makers. It's wedged into the mud hilt deep and the blood loss making him weaker he struggles to pull it free as Gregory barrels towards him, a venomous look in his eyes. Just as the larger man reaches for him, aiming to pick him up by his throat and gut him, the mud lets go and he swings the blade up, catching Gregory directly in the throat.

Cas can only watches as he stumbles backwards, choking and holding his neck before collapsing on his back in the water.

The final cannon fires and Cas lays back on the stone, breathing hard, vision blurring at the edges. He vaguely hears the loudspeaker begrudgingly announcing him as the winner and the sound of the helicopter as it approaches but all he can think of is Dean. Having guarded his thoughts for so long, trying so hard not to dwell on the man he loves because the pain of never seeing him again was so real as a possibility. But now he is free to do so, he won the games and he will see Dean again.

He just hopes the games makers will keep their word.

The darkness takes over.


	17. War Like No Other

The second Gregory hits the water Dean is moving, he has no idea when the victory ceremony will be but he wants to make sure he's early rather than late. 

Baby's wheels whine on the pavement as he pushes her to get to New York as fast as possible. He had wanted to leave earlier, leave Meg behind to watch and keep them updated, but Sam had convinced him to wait, to see what happened and the final moments had certainly been revealing. He has no idea what the old woman whispered in his ear, but he knows that Crowley will have seen that moment and will be circling Cas like a vulture now. He just hopes that the demon keeps his word at the ceremony, even though he knows they are going to keep him from getting what he wants if Cas doesn't want to tell him and that will probably make Crowley an even bigger problem for them in the future.

The interior of the car is silent on the drive, all of them deep in thought about the coming events and what their roles would be. It had already been decided that with Crowleys 'distraction' going on Dean would head for Cas and get him out as fast as possible. Dean wouldn't hear otherwise on the subject, both Meg and Sam would cover his back and the four of them would head straight for the bat cave to hide and regroup after.

Cas was more injured now and would need help and time to heal before they made their next move, whatever that would be.

It's early evening when Dean finally sees the glowing marquee outside of Madison Square Gardens. Several crowds of people are milling around outside and he tries to get a sense of whether or not they are human as they all start filing in the doors.

"Meg?"

"They are all angels Dean, tonight's the ceremony, shit thats fast."

"They don't normally do it this fast?" Sam asks.

"No, usually the winner is given some time to heal, I have a funny feeling they suspect something is going to go down and they are trying to get ahead of us."

"But he's the winner Meg, don't they have to give him his choice and let him go?" Sam persists.

"Don't you get it Sam?" Dean barks. "None of this is by their book, he wasnt supposed to win and they probably don't intend on him leaving this building alive."

"Deans right Sam, they are barely keeping things within the realm of believability right now, and I think they know all of the angels are suspicious of them and want to do away with Cas before civil war breaks out with him leading the bigger army."

"Won't killing him make him a martyr though?"

"Yeah but he's less dangerous that way." Meg sighs softly. "And you thought the demons were bad."

"Not all of the angels are bad, in fact most aren't, but we clearly have some leadership issues here."

It occurs to Dean that they may have more help tonight than they had thought. If the crowd is against the leaders, they may help get Cas out, but they were still going to need Crowleys help to get in the building in the first place, judging by the menacing guards at the doors.

Parking in a dark spot in a lot at the corner of West 31st and Eighth Ave., they cross quickly and duck into Brother Jimmy's BBQ. As far as hole in the walls go, this one stands above some of the others Dean and Sam have found themselves in before. Two floors high with multiple neon signs indicating the various types of beer available and menus promising southern cooking, it is packed to the brim with people, which seems odd for a Tuesday night. 

Pushing his way to a booth by the window so they can see the action across the street, Dean looks questioningly at Meg, who only smirks at him, confirming what he was already thinking. Demons, the entire bar is full of demons. Crowley was still keeping up his word, something he thought unheard of, and he knows this means whatever it is that Cas knows that he wants, it was huge, bigger than anything he had considered so far.

Outside of the huge building across the street, files of angels were still pouring through the Pennsylvania Station doors, many of them looking apprehensive or even confused at the suddenness of the ceremony.

The volume level of music and the tension in the air keeps the three of them quiet, and while the demons appear to be enjoying themselves, playing pool and ordering wings, Dean can still feel their tension as well, as they constantly cast their eyes across the street as if looking for some sign or clue. He wants to ask them what it will be, so they know when to get moving as well, and as if reading his thoughts a small blond woman suddenly appears at their table. Her hair is short and spiky and her heart shaped face is heavy with makeup and kohl liner around her eyes. Her tight, short denim skirt and cropped tank top show off her tight, small body and there was a time Dean would have admired her despite knowing what she is, but now he is far too wound up.

"The ceremony begins in twenty minutes. We will be going in the moment we get the signal he is on stage, you are to follow close behind, get him from the stage and head back to these doors and no others, as these are the only ones we will keep open for you."

While her voice is high, almost childlike, her tone is clipped, all business.

Without waiting for questions, she turns on her spiky heel and walks away. Several other demons glance in their direction, their faces blank and closed, before turning back to pretending like this was just a normal night out.

"I wonder what the signal will be?" Sam wonders.

The twenty minutes passes slowly, but they see the crowds outside the doors growing smaller and soon there are only a few stragglers outside. Dean spots a familiar looking face in the crowd for a moment, but its gone so fast he doesn't have time to register who it was.

When at last the time has passed, the entire mood in the room shifts and everyone stands in wait. The human bartenders stand staring confused at their patrons, even asking a few what's wrong, but they get no answer.

Sam, Dean and Meg stand as well, bodies at the ready to move the instant they need to and Dean feels like a coil about to explode.

All is quiet for close to five minutes, someone had turned the music off, confused about what was going on and they can hear the humans muttering at each other about something going on and possible theories. 

Dean doesn't see the signal, has no idea what it is, but suddenly the demons are moving, and fast. Startled as they are, it takes them a second to catch up, but they join the mob quickly, and find themselves entirely surrounded by demons, as though they are being guarded and escorted all at once. He has no idea what Crowley has said to them for them to be so obedient but he's glad of it for the moment. 

The nine angels guarding the door glance in their direction once before realizing what's going on and its not long before sharp white blasts of light are igniting the night sky. Seeing an opening, Dean darts to the door at the left farthest side, where the demons are battling with the guards. He can feel Sam and Meg close behind him, so doesn't look back, but pushes through the door and picks up speed. He can hear music coming from the larger antechamber and on into the arena. More guards pop up out of no where and a kick in the chest knocks him on his ass and the breath from his lungs. Blinding light fills the room and it takes a moment for his eyes to readjust before he sees Sam, standing near a wall with an Angel Banishing sigil painted on it, his bloody hand resting in the middle. He has no idea how his brother painted it that fast, but is grateful as he gets back on his feet.

The demons in the area all turn and look at Sam as well, and a short cheer erupts at his work before they all press forward again to the doors into the lowest level of the arena.

Dean follows again and the noise level in the huge space is deafening. Clearly their entrance had not gone unnoticed and all of the spectators are standing and yelling and some are attempting to flee. He notices the sigils on the doors, preventing them from flying away and isn't surprised. The leaders want and need them to see this, for the ranks to learn their place in the order of things and to stop any rebellious winds in the air. He notices sigils he's never seen before and Meg is in his ear suddenly. 

"They've stripped their abilities, their grace is useless in here, that way they can't do anything to stop them from killing Cas, though it doesn't look like they were expecting an army of demons." He notes the slight air of pride in her voice, the fact that the demons suddenly have one hell of an upper hand in this fight.

They push further down the aisle and he tries desperately to see over the throngs of demons and angels in front of him to see the stage, to see Cas but its not until he is near the boards surrounding the ice pad for the New York Rangers that he can finally see by climbing up on them. The stage is at the opposite end, giant screens are placed on either side, magnifying the proceedings and he can see Cas standing next to Zeke, both watching the chaos in the stands. Jumping the barricade fully he turns for a moment to make sure Sam and Meg are with him and turns back to start the push through the crowd to get to Cas and in that split second he sees Horatio, moving towards Cas with an angel blade in his hand. 

"CAS!" He starts screaming his name, to get his attention, to tell him he's about to be attacked, but with the noise in the room, Cas can't hear him, and Horatio is getting closer. His stomach feels like lead, and he knows that he's too far to shoot Horatio himself to stop him. Pushing and shoving, he fights through the throngs, but his progress is too slow and his throat is burning from screaming to no avail.

Horatio gets right behind Cas and as though sensing him, Cas turns and just misses being impaled in the chest by the blade, but he's off balance and falls roughly to the stage. Dean can see how injured he still is as he stays prone on his side only moving to try to avoid a second blow but he's not fast enough and the blade pierces his thigh, his face crumpling in pain.

Dean forces his legs to move faster, to shove as hard as he can to get through the panicked crowd, who are also seeing what is happening onstage and are trying to flee the same fate themselves.

Crawling backwards on his elbows, Cas tries desperately to get away, but his old injuries coupled with his new ones make progress impossible. Horatio raises the blade again, a small smile on his lips and he says something to Cas, but Dean can't hear and Cas only tries to move away once again.

Dean notices movement behind Horatio as he steps towards Cas again, readying his arm for the death blow, but he never gets his arm down. Instead the blade drops to the stage harmlessly and Horatio stumbles forward, trying desperately to wrench the blade between his shoulders out of his body. Dean sees the same face he saw in the crowd outside and he finally recognizes it. Elise, standing behind Horatio, her face calm, her mission set she waits until he turns to face her, to see who stabbed him in the back before she plunges a second blade straight into his heart and light pours from his eyes and mouth as he falls backward, barely missing Cas. His wings sear themselves on the stage, leaving black ash in their wake. 

The crowds finally moving away, Dean makes the last few feet to the stage at full run and is at Cas's side before Elise. Unable to form words he pulls the smaller man to his chest and holds on tight, he hears Cas say his name in surprise, but he quickly returns the grasp just as tightly. Relief pours through his veins, he has Cas, he's still alive and he's taking him home.

Gripping Cas's head he holds his face right in front of his own, absorbing every detail of those blue eyes and full lips, every scar, mark and line of exhaustion painted there. His beard is even longer and scruffier, like he was when he first got out of purgatory, and the dark circles under his eyes tell the story of what he's been through. But the persistent innocence is still there in his gaze, its mixed with something else now though as he looks at Dean, a stronger emotion than he'd seen before and it fills him with longing and desperation. Not even caring who is watching he kisses Cas finally, hungrily, and he gets the same in return. The rest of the room disappears, all the noise, all the chaos and stench of death and blood is gone and replaced by the feeling of Cas's lips of his own, his beard tickling his chin and his fingers knotted in Deans shirt, pulling him closer. Cas whines softly in his mouth, partly in pain at Deans grip on his head, and partly in pleasure. When they finally break for air, he keeps holding Cas's head, presses their foreheads together and they sit, only aware of each other.

Persistent tapping on his shoulder turns his head, and he sees Sam flailing behind him, shouting that they need to move, and he looks behind his brother and sees that the chaos is growing and knows he's right.

Without even thinking about it, he wraps Cas's arms around his neck and puts his own arms around his back and under his legs and picks him up, cradling him against his body. He can feel the warm dampness of the blood from the wound on the other mans thigh, but tries to ignore it, there isn't time to deal with it yet.

Meg smirks at Dean and throws him a wink before she starts leading them back to the door. She's covered in blood, from who Dean has no idea, but the fighting in the stands and on the floor has taken a turn. The demons are going after the guard angels, and the leaders, but so are the other angels in the stands. For the first time he has ever witnessed, demons and angels are fighting together, on the same side, against other angels. A war like no other.

The demons and angels work together to clear a path for them to leave as well. He glances back to look for Elise, to tell her to come with them, but she's gone in the crowd and there isn't time to look. The other games makers are barreling towards them from the left and Meg strikes out with an angel blade and injures one, but doesn't take him down. Three demons cut through the crowd and take them on, yelling at Dean to keep moving. He can feel Cas's breath on his neck, feel his heartbeat against his chest, and it spurs him on. 

They reach Pennsylvania station quickly, a horde of demons and angels mixed around them, protecting them. But they come face to face with a much larger group of guards and out of the arena, the grace of the angels is back in full force.

The door out is blocked, Dean can see its been barricaded. To his left he can see the stairs leading down to the trains and he darts towards them. A guard looms huge in front of him and he tries to circle around him, hoping momentum will give him the edge but he's not fast enough, and pain blooms in his shoulder as a blade pierces it. 

He hears Cas's panicked cry, tries to dart further to the left, to get away, but the guard anticipates his move and attempts to push them both down the stairs. An iron grip on his shoulder stops his fall and Dean barely keeps his grip on Cas as gravity threatens to pull him down into the cavernous hole. He manages to steady himself and turns in time to see a man with blond stringy hair and rumpled clothes impale the guard on a blade. The man turns the guard and with a foot, simultaneously pushes him down the stairs with a kick in the chest and pulls his blade free.

Turning towards Dean, the man produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the blade while smiling at him wryly.

“So you must be Dean Winchester. I’ve heard a lot about you, though not as much from Cas there.”

He feels Cas turn his head to look at the same time a waft of whiskey breath hits his face.

“Garten?” Cas starts, and then he’s pulling himself down to the ground and limping over to the blond man and embracing him warmly.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Well Castiel, I told you to stay alive and I’m pretty pleased to see you took my advice.”

The name Garten rings a bell in Dean’s head, he remembers Zeke saying that name once, but can’t place why.

Cas turns back to Dean, hobbling on his good leg and he can’t help but reach out and stabilize him at the same time Garten offers a helping hand on the other side.

“Dean, this is my coach for the games, Garten.”

Dean nods, a swell of jealousy burning in his gut, but he tries to push it down, knowing he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t help but continue to glance at the hand the blond man has on Cas’s waist. Garten catches his stares and lifts his hand away and holds it up in a surrender type of manner, showing he means no disrespect.

“Well gentlemen, let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?”

Dean scans the throng quickly, and all at once he sees a group of angry looking guards barreling towards them with Sam and Meg hot on their heels.

Meg manages to take one down with a well placed blade, but it’s not enough. Dean can see Sam limping, see that he is hurt and panic explodes in his chest.

Garten shoves Cas towards him, barks at them to get down the stairs.

“My brother, SAM!”

“Dean, go, take Cas, I’ll get Sam.” Garten orders him before charging forward, blade at the ready and takes down the guard battling with his brother.

The guards have only been slowed slightly, and he knows he needs to move Cas, but leaving Sam is not an option.

As though sensing Dean’s struggle Cas grabs a latent blade lying on the floor and limps forward to take on the guard who is beating Meg into the floor. 

“CAS!” Dean charges after him, and is hit side long by Sam, who has been ungracefully shoved towards him by Garten. The blond man glances over and sees Cas and rolls his eyes before charging over to shove him towards Dean as well, but Dean gets there first and without thinking picks up Cas, yells the word stairs at Meg and Sam and starts running.

They dodge the body of the angel Garten had killed only a few moments before and start running down the platform. It is completely empty of passengers, signs hang on the walls indicating that the station is closed for construction. Dean checks both tunnels, looking for any signs of a train coming but sees nothing. He can hear feet coming down the stairs now, heavy feet.

“Dean, we’ve got to move.” Sam’s urgent voice hits him.

Not knowing what else to do, he jumps down onto the tracks, still hugging Cas against his chest, Meg and Sam follow quickly and they all start moving into the dark tunnel.

“Dean, this is dangerous, what if a train comes?” Meg asks, worry in her voice. He notices that she too is limping slightly based on her foot steps and feels guilty for not helping them more, but he had to protect Cas, there was no other choice.

“It’s our only option Meg,” he tells her softly.

Sam pulls out his cell phone, and using the screen light tries to illuminate the black tunnel and they all see the same sigil on the walls that they saw in the arena, blocking angels from using their grace.

They keep moving, as fast as they can for a few minutes before hearing footsteps behind them. Panic exploding in his chest, Dean moves to the wall and presses his back into it to hide. Sam kills the light on his phone and follows with Meg. 

“It’s just me people,” comes Gartens voice as the footsteps slow down. “Don’t attack.”

Breathing out in relief Dean moves away from the wall and Sam opens his phone again, casting a bluish light onto the older man’s face. He gives them a quick smirk before trodding on down the tunnel.

“Come on, next stop, Times Square.”

They all start following him, always on guard. He feels Cas nuzzle into his neck, his breathing soft and warm on his skin.

“Hang in there Cas, we’re going to get you some help soon,” Dean whispers. He knows the other man must be in pain, the dampness of the blood is still on his shirt and jeans.

Light soon grows in the direction they are heading, and the sound of voices starts to travel to their ears. As they get closer they can see a barricade up, stopping trains from moving in their direction and scores of commuters standing on the platform, casting angry glances in their direction. At first, Dean thinks the ire is meant for them directly, but then he realizes it is more about the inconvenience of one of the stations being shut down. The anger on the commuters faces quickly turns to fear and horror as they spot the five of them coming down the track, covered in blood and some of them limping but it doesn’t phase Garten at all. He strides over to the edge of the platform, people backing away quickly as he comes closer and hauls himself up.

He turns and lifts Meg up, throwing her a surreptitious wink and then they both help Sam before Garten finally turns and holds his arms out for Dean to pass him Cas. 

The same jealous swell runs through him, but he shakes it off and gently lays Cas on the platform, with Garten supporting him before accepting Sam’s helping hand up to the ledge himself. 

Once up he recollects Cas wordlessly, and a trickle of fear runs through him when he feels how much weaker Cas’s grip is.

Garten throws him a look, indicating he’s noticed this as well and his pace picks up as they head to the escalators out to the street.

Once outside, the looks and horror from passersby only increases, but Dean ignores them now as well.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, do we have a ride out of here?” Garten asks.

“Yeah, down by Penn Station,” Sam answers dryly.

“Cas needs help, and now,” Dean barely hides the panic in his voice and Sam and Meg both turn to look at Cas concerned.

Glancing around at the streets full of yellow taxies and commuters hurrying to their destination, he doesn’t even know which direction to move in. But Garten seems to, and starts hurrying down the street, dodging pedestrian traffic like a pro. Dean, Sam and Meg do their best to keep up with him, but he has to stop several times to wait for them to catch up.

The walk back to the parking lot seems shorter than it did while underground and there are what seems like hundreds of flashing lights outside of the doors as police, firemen and ambulances pour into the area. The angels had not been able to hide the fighting once it broke out and humans, not knowing what was going on had called 911. A massive crowd of them have gathered across the road, near the parking lot, along with a variety of news vehicles and reporters.

Garten stops half way there and stares at it.

“What do we do now? We aren’t exactly inconspicuous at all.”

“Go around?” Suggests Meg.

“No, just stay against the wall and keep moving. Sam, take the keys from my pocket, you’re going to have to drive if you can.” Dean glances at his brother, who nods, plucking the keys out of his back pocket. 

“Sam, you lead, Meg you go next, I’ll be behind you with Cas, Garten you follow, keep an eye behind us for trouble.”

They all nod in unison and move into position. They get stares as they wind their way down the street, but no one says anything or tries to stop them, most likely because Dean glares a hole through anyone whose lip even quivers as though about to speak.

A police barricade blocks the exit from the parking lot and fury and fear wind through Deans veins. But Meg calmly walks over to one of the cars and gets in, starts it and moves it forward enough to provide space for baby to squeeze through.

Garten laughs and smiles, impressed at her gumption and she smirks back. 

He feels Cas cough against his chest and looks down worridely, but realizes that he's actually laughing at Meg and Garten. He glances up at Dean and smiles softly, despite his weakness and pain and Dean can't help but chuckle slightly himself.

They dart around a cube van, avoiding the nearby scrutiny of a team of firefighters and EMTs and Sam opens the back door for Dean. Gently sliding Cas in, he quickly follows, kneeling in the floor well he pulls his belt off and wraps it around Cas's upper thigh, slowing the blood flow.

"It's gonna be ok Cas, hang in there, I'm gonna get you fixed up."

Pale blue eyes meet his, with a nod Cas reaches a hand up and cups Deans cheek and he smiles softly.

"I wasnt sure I'd ever see you again." His voice is soft, but relief still comes through.

"You kidding? You kicked ass in there, I knew you could do it."

Cas smiles softly again and Dean leans in and gently kisses his forehead and then lips. He remembers the horrifying night he spent in the car when he thought Cas was dead and his throat gets tight. Resting his own forehead against Cas's they sit again, wrapped up in each other. He barely hears Sam get in the car, but does hear Meg when she starts complaining about Garten disappearing.

Cas's eyes pop open and he starts trying to sit up to look out the window, fear on his face.

Dean can see Meg standing beside the car, blade in her hand ready, but there is no sign of the other man. 

Dread pooling in his stomach, Dean slides out of the car as well, ordering Sam to pop the trunk.

Grabbing a shotgun, he joins Meg and they both stand scanning the crowd for trouble for a moment.

"Meg, how bad are you hurt?"

"I'm good Dean," she drawls, though he can hear some concern in her voice. He glances at Sam, who is struggling to get out of the car, and he knows he can't send Sam back out, he's too injured, its gotta be himself.

"Ok, you go back the way we came, I'll head towards the station doors. Sam? Stay with Cas. If it gets dicy, roll out and call me from where you are."

"Dean?" Cas's weak voice from the back reaches him. He's staring at Dean in fear. Bending down close to him, Dean cups his cheek and smiles.

"I'll be fine, and hopefully back soon. Any idea where Garten would have gone?"

Cas shakes his head.

"I want to come with you, I can help."

"No Cas, you're hurt, sit this out, Sam will take care of you."

Cas stares at him in defiance for a moment, before exhaustion pulls him back and he nods.

Standing back up, he closes the door, shutting Cas inside and nods at Meg before they both set out.

With all of the commotion, no one notices him with his shotgun, but he keeps it tucked in his jacket just in case.

The front doors of Penn station are barricaded from the inside still. Rows of riot police are set up outside them, with one barking orders through the door to the occupants inside with no response.

He can see the odd injured demon quietly getting away but the majority of combatants are still inside.

Slipping under the police tape, he skirts a way over to the BBQ joint they had been in only an hour before, searching the crowd as he goes. There is no sign of Garten, and in truth he doesn't know where to even begin or who would have taken him if that was what happened.

Brunette hair catches his eye to the right, a young woman standing in the crowd of onlookers, hordes of ambulances and police cars behind her. Darting past the attempts to block him by a police officer he reaches her and about knocks her over.

"Elise!"

She stares at him a moment in surprise but then grins widely at him and throws her arms around his neck before pulling back suddenly.

"Wait, you're Dean right? Where's Castiel? Is he ok?" 

"He's in the car, I looked for you at the stage, but you were gone!"

"I left when I got a chance, I was hoping to be followed, to lead the chase away from Castiel."

Dean smiles warmly at her.

"You did good."

"Why are you still here, you need to leave, immediately, there is no time to waste!" She grips his arms hard, fingers digging in painfully to his flesh through his jacket and he has to fight the urge to shake her off.

"Looking for Garten, he was with us, then he was gone, but you should come with me, its not safe for you here either."

She releases his arms suddenly and steps back.

"No, it is not safe for me to be around him yet, I could bring danger down on you, I will look for Garten for you though, and send him to you if I find him."

With that she turns and darts into the crowd, disappearing almost immediately in the sea of bodies. 

"Dammit." Dean curses, turning back to the doors, eyes feebly searching for blond stringy hair but seeing nothing.

His pocket starts vibrating then.

"Meg, you got him?"

"Yup, stupid ass went and got supplies from an ambulance, didnt bother to tell anyone though before he left." Her drawl is thick, she's at ease and Dean relaxes too, glancing over his shoulder to see if Elise has reappeared, but shes gone and he can't wait any longer.

When he gets back to the car, Garten is leaning on it nonchalantly, while Meg is in the backseat wrapping Cas's leg with gauze and tape. He can see a bag of saline hanging from the headrest with a long tube leading to his arm and relief and jealousy hit him all at once. Relief because Cas is getting the help he needs, jealousy because he's the one who wanted to do it.

As if reading his mood, Meg spots him and immediately gets out, sliding into the front seat next to Sam with a handful of supplies for his injuries. Garten follows her and Dean retakes his position in the back with Cas. 

Cas smiles at him tiredly, and Dean debates on telling him about seeing Elise. He doesn't want to lie to him, but as much as it pains him to leave her himself, they don't have any more time to go back. As it is, he's not sure they will make it to the bat cave before Crowley finds them. They have at least a 24 hour drive ahead of them, and that's if they don't stop.


End file.
